


Dog Filled Days Aren't Over

by josiegrae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chronic Pain, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Post-Break Up, Romance, Sirius Is A Prat, Strangers to Lovers, True Love, Wrong number, text fic, texting fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiegrae/pseuds/josiegrae
Summary: When post-breakup Sirius sends a photo of a dog from his new phone, he doesn't expect to send it to someone he doesn't know. Never mind someone named Moony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta, ProfessorDrarry, who always fills me with confidence and happiness. 
> 
> A massive thank you to the mods of the SiriusBlackFest who allowed me to come back again, and also for running this and being so supportive. 
> 
> This piece was meant to be a one-shot, but because this is me, will continue after the fest as a work in progress. For this piece, I have written S and R next to their texts so you can follow the story as easily as possible. I hope this sorts any confusion.

Sirius Black hated breakups.

He hated the mess of them all.

The _I told you so_ looks that came from friends who always know best. Sirius happened to hate the stabbing pain that occurred repetitively in his chest when he thought of being alone again, and he despised the way it came when he was beginning to feel okay, as though it _needed_ to remind him he was alone and in pain. Like he'd had the chance to forget.

The worst thing about breakups, in Sirius' opinion, was seeing the person. Again, he didn't want to, for one, even though he'd found out from previous one-night-stands he had very little choice in the matter. Secondly, he never knew what to say. 'Hello' seemed too casual, but not saying anything felt too rude. It would be so much easier if he was from a magical sphere and he could simply whip up a spell and ensure he never had to see them again. But Sirius wasn't living in a magical world, he was living in London. He was avoiding more people than he liked—to the point he had needed to make a list—and he hated the world.

Benjy— _the now ex—_ wasn't entirely wrong. Sirius somewhat knew that, even if it was somewhere deep down in a place he didn't want to truly acknowledge existed; Sirius _was_ immature, he was spoilt, and most of all, Sirius _was_ a brat. But how was he supposed to get better by himself? Even when he asked that very question, the disapproving look he got from Benjy didn't answer it, and even now as he walked down the street, Sirius still had no idea what ' _take some time to grow'_ actually _fucking_ meant.

It had been six weeks, and he was still not sure what it meant, or if he'd ever feel like he understood what had gone wrong. Sirius missed Benjy, of course he did, but he was sure he missed the company more than the actual person, and he wondered if that was an indication of a problem.

It was too late to ponder too much on that though.

He'd decided, only that morning, that to really move on, he needed to reinvent himself. He had decided he needed three things; first, he needed a new look—which he immediately reconsidered since he did not want to part with his hair; next, he needed a new number, which he didn't really care about since he changed phone contracts so often. He never kept a number longer than a year. And lastly, he wanted a fresh new attitude, so he downloaded more music to hopefully inspire a new _persona,_ finding he rather like himself how he was. Sirius didn't want to cockily say that there was no point changing perfection, but he did think it.

With a _highly_ dramatic sweep of his foot, he kicked a pebble that looked too good to _not_ be kicked and watched with mild amusement as it rose in the air and cracked against the chalkboard sign advertising some new phone that _looked_ nothing like his old thing. It was a wonder the rock had even lifted that high, and that Sirius had been on this very street ready to kick it, especially when he had taken a wrong turn down Knockturn Street. Sirius didn't know why he decided to stop, and he probably never would have if not for his new idea to overhaul his life, but his eyes wandered over the swirly writing and every _single_ thing it mentioned drew him in.

**Are you sick of not having enough time?**

_Um yes._

**Is your memory struggling to keep up with your song downloads?**

_Uh-huh._

**Are you stuck in a rut?**

_I just got out of it, but sure._

**Then enjoy 25% of new handsets when you sign up to our contracts.**

Sirius had been in the door before his eyes had even read what shop it was— _Florean's Fhones_ , Sirius appreciated the pun—and he was introduced to Alice before he could even pull his hood down and pull his headphones out of his ears.

"Linkin Park, _nice_ ," she said as she stuck her hand out. "Hybrid Theory happens to be my favourite album."

The corner of his lips tugged, and he was surprised to find a genuine smile wanted to appear. She seemed _nice_ , and as she led him over to the phones, he was immediately distracted by the flashing case on the wall.

"Whatever phone fits that case, I want it."

Alice's brow arched, her doe-eyes brightened. "That'll be the iPhone, it's pricey, but we can throw in free insurance for three months, and it has a 64gb capacity." She pointed to the model on the wall. "You also get six months free BT sports—"

Sirius pulled out his wallet, removing his debit card and license from the slots. "I'll take it. But you can keep the BT sports. I prefer to _play_ my sports than watch them."

Her cheeks flushed red, and Sirius frowned until he saw her lashes flutter, giving him a smirk that made him suddenly uncomfortable.

Above all else, Sirius hated knowing that someone was right about something—especially when he was wrong—but with James, it was so much worse. He really needed to begin thinking before he spoke, especially when randoms thought he was flirting—when he was just being himself.

* * *

> **S: So I took the stupid advice and decided I could try and grow as a person and so I have made several important decisions that I thought you'd like to get the inside scoop on Evans.**  
>  **S: One.**  
>  **S: It is I, Sirius, and I purchased a new phone and added all the contacts in from memory. So, points to me.**  
>  **S: Two.**  
>  **S: I visited that dog shelter you told me *not* to visit. And you were right, I would fall in love with a dog, and I would feel bad about leaving them. So, points to you.  
> ** **S: Three.  
> ** **S: How fucking cute is this dog though?**

* * *

Remus Lupin had been _trying_ to sleep.

It was several hours since he'd first attempted, and he yet he was still laid against the itchy sheets, eyes burning a hole in the ceiling, as he told himself to fall asleep _now._ Even if he never did.

He told himself, _when you finally sleep you'll feel better_ , except he never fell asleep and he never seemed to feel better. Today was the second day he was running on coffee and no sleep, and his bones ached more now than they ever had done.

Remus hated his knee the most, although his shoulder and elbow were close seconds. His knee, however important, had been close to being hacked off on several occasions over the last 48 hours, and if not for the fact Remus hated using crutches so much, he was worried he would have.

He hated the scars, both old ones that had turned silver and new that had slowly began to heal and covered its entirety. He hated the pain that flooded through him when it turned wet or cold, or even hot and dry. Remus despised knowing that he would walk with an odd limp, causing eyebrows to rise and people to mutter things. He hated being without clothes, which made swimming—an important part of his physiotherapy—even more painful.

Most of all, Remus hated being lonely. He hated the solitude his chronic pain brought, forcing him to bow out of events with his friends—not that he had many left—and decline invites to bachelor parties and bar crawls. He had never been more lonely since his mum died and his dad buried inside of himself to cope with the loss. Remus had no one to talk to except the sheep in the field next to his house, and the occasional rant at the therapist once a fortnight.

All of him hurt tonight. From his chest to his head, his toes to his fingers, his bones to his organs. He was tired—beyond exhausted—and he was sure he was losing his mind. Especially when his phone went off.

And then again.

And again.

Remus turned over, breathing through his nose as he lifted his phone. He made sure not to cut himself on the large crack he had caused from throwing it and unlocked his phone to see the _seven messages_ from a random number.

* * *

> _R: I think you have the wrong number.  
> _ _R: However, send more dog pics if you wish._
> 
> **S: You're not Evans?**
> 
> _R: Chris Evans?_  
>  _R: No._  
>  _R: Another Evans?  
> _ _R: Also no._
> 
> **S: You think the dog was cute though?**
> 
> _R: Ridiculously cute dog._
> 
> **S: Good.  
> ** **S: Thanx**
> 
> _R: Yours?_
> 
> **S: Lol. I wish. I want a dog though, which is why I'm looking at them. Not for some other reason.  
> ** **S: Random stranger :narrow eye emoji:**
> 
> _R: It sounds like I should be suspicious, but I'm not one to pry. Have a great night/day stranger-who-likes-dogs._
> 
> **S: I'm clearly a 'would like a dog' stranger, stranger.**
> 
> _R: Semantics._

* * *

Sirius had no idea why he was smiling. He shouldn't be, he knew that. For one, he had no idea who this person was and, for all he knew, they could be a hacker or an evil person who did evil things. But for some reason, he imagined them as someone nice who used large words and read books, and wore glasses and probably drank from a teacup over a mug because they preferred to be aesthetically pleasing.

He liked to be aesthetically pleasing, but that was mainly for the 'gram. Sirius liked trips down streets in London that looked worthy of being brightened and adjusted so they popped on the screen of the few hundred followers he had.

Primrose Hill was his favourite. Sirius liked the colours and how it was so different from his own childhood home. He liked to imagine stories for the people that lived in the various colours; creating worlds where they had cake for breakfast and wasn't forced to wear formal wear for evening meals. Primrose Hill had been his escape, his _place_ , and even the night when he sludged in the rain, water soaked into his converses, the place looked just as beautiful as it did in the sunshine.

Sirius backed out of the messages, staring at the picture he had taken that night before he had gone to James'. The dark grey clouds that hung over the yellow and blue houses, the puddles spreading over the pavement, and he could almost hear the black taxis rolling down the street as he stared.

* * *

> _R: Dogs are a handful, so you know. They aren't a whim decision. You have to really think before you commit._
> 
> **S: Thanks, stranger.**
> 
> _R: I overstepped._
> 
> **S: I think the people at the RSPCA would rather like that you did, although when I visited they made sure to remind me of this information at least three times.  
> ** **S: Fair enough repeating yourself once, but twice?**
> 
> _R: What's the dog's name?_
> 
> **S: I don't think he has one. Not really. They called him Socks, but I don't think it suits him.**
> 
> _R: What would you call him?_
> 
> **S: He is quite fluffy don'tcha think? Probably like Bear or Snuffles.**
> 
> _R: Snuffles is a good name._
> 
> **S: I preferred that one too.  
> ** **S: Just didn't want to admit it.**
> 
> _R: I'll let you go, I am sorry I'm not Evans and for bothering you continuously.  
> _ _R: And possibly for jumping to conclusions, although you can never be too suspicious._
> 
> **S: It's no problem.**  
>  **S: Not that I thought you were bothering me anyway.  
> ** **S: Not really doing anything except realising I should have written my contacts down before I thought I could remember them all.**
> 
> _R: New phone? (Tell me to go if you want)_
> 
> **S: Yeah. iPhone. I had a Sony phone originally, the idea was so I could play my PlayStation while I wasn't in the room. But that never happened.**
> 
> _R: The shop didn't help you to back it up?_
> 
> **S: If I admit something you promise you won't laugh.**
> 
> _R: I'll do no such thing._
> 
> **S: Tease.  
> ** **S: I only have a handful of contacts and was pretty sure I knew them all. So, lol.**
> 
> _R: If it makes you feel any better, you're the first person who has texted me in two weeks.  
> _ _R: I know this because I had forgotten what my text tone sounded like until you harassed me with cute dog pictures and your several Important Decisions._
> 
> **S: They were super important decisions.**
> 
> _R: Hmm. They seem so.  
> _ _R: How come you needed to make them?_
> 
> **S: It's a long story.**  
>  **S: And one I don't fancy talking about.  
> ** **S: Plus you could be a murderer or the FBI or a celebrity.**
> 
> _R: If I said I was none of those things, would that reassure you on at least that._
> 
> **S: I'd need proof.**
> 
> _R: Okay, well I haven't ever murdered someone, I don't think I can be sneaky so an agent is out of the question and I'm terrified of cameras of both photography or filmography kind._
> 
> **S: I'll accept your proof.**
> 
> _R: You're a kind soul._
> 
> **S: I try.  
> ** **S: Do you have a name?**
> 
> _R: I do._
> 
> **S: …**
> 
> _R: But you could be a murderer or an FBI agent or a celebrity.  
> _ _R: ;)_
> 
> **S: I am all of those things and more.**
> 
> _R: I knew it, no one could be that kind of no reason._  
>  _R: I'm Moony.  
> _ _R: Which is a nickname._
> 
> **S: I'm Padfoot.**  
>  **S: Which is a nickname.  
> ** **S: Although how funny would it be if those were our actual names.**
> 
> _R: Well… you see._
> 
> **S: Fuck off. No way.**
> 
> _R: No just a nickname, an accidental one, but one that has stuck._
> 
> **S: I like it.**
> 
> _R: That's because you're ridiculously nice for no reason._
> 
> **S: Ah, wait until you know me. I'm all kinds of horrid.**
> 
> _R: I'll wait for the receipts  
> _ _R: Anyways I'm drifting off and I really want to take the chance to sleep if it presents itself, so if you want to harass me with more dog pictures, feel free._
> 
> **S: You'll regret that.**
> 
> _R: I'm sure I will, Padfoot. Bye._

* * *

Remus woke with a terrible ache in his neck, and he half wondered to himself why he hadn't placed his pillows in the routine upside-down v-shape he usually did. Until Remus remembered the mysterious new friend he had made. He didn't turn his phone over straight away, not wanting to see what time it was or how long he had slept. The sun had gone, that was at least something, but the thick darkness told him it was at least early morning and he knew he couldn't risk moving without waking his father.

If _Padfoot_ had decided to text him—though Remus was unsure why he would—he would have to reply, thus inviting someone into his life who he would most definitely disappoint or annoy. Remus didn't fancy having another person mad at him, especially when he had racked up far too many in the last few years.

He concluded that if he didn't turn the screen over, then he wouldn't have to reply, and therefore couldn't disappoint anyone—which suited Remus perfectly. Except, the voice in the back of his head—the insistent one he hated—had begun to harp, almost _sing_ , until he wanted to turn the phone over just to silence the voice and get it to stop from hacking at his brain. He hated his conscious about as much as he hated the consultants that looked after him, which was no small feat.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stealing the chance to fall back into slumber away.

> **S: I am re-considering such a large dog, Moony. I'm not sure if I should choose a dog more size-manageable. I'm intrigued to know your thoughts.**

Remus found himself smirking, a stranger—one with the name Padfoot—wanted his advice. If he had been awake for longer, Remus would have probably scoffed or laughed until his sides hurt. But he hadn't been awake that long and he was running on little sleep—even if he had slept until 2 am.

> **S: Upon more research, I think the size of the dog isn't an indication to its management. I just watched a video on corgi's, and the small-legged creatures look like a challenge and a half.**

Remus had actually already thought of that before he scanned over Padfoot's message, remembering his next-door-but-ones _Yorkshire Terrier_ and how it had chased Remus—a limping idiot—all the way to the Post Office. He despised most of all that he had become perpetually fearful of all small dogs after that, even ones with names like Sugarpuff.

> **S: I have researched a little further and am very confused about short-haired dogs compared to long-hair dogs. I had zero inkling that there was so much to consider when finding** ' _ **Man's Best Friend'**_ **.**

Rolling onto his side, Remus gripped his phone in his two hands as he let out a kept sigh. He wanted to be witty, almost comical—which was the opposite of who he was in real life. But Padfoot didn't know Remus, he knew Moony, and surely Moony could be funny.

> _R: I am so glad you contacted me, Moony: Local Dog Expert, for this life-changing decision. I would first consider the size of your garden for the size of your dog. There is zero point in having Clifford The Big Red Dog when your garden is equivalent to a balcony. Just a thought._

He clicked send before he could regret it, half-dashing his phone into the mattress as he visibly cringed at his own text. Why did he call himself a local dog expert? Why did he even mention it? Especially when any dog scared him because any dog could outrun him.

* * *

Sirius awoke to his phone buzzing on his chest, and for a second he was in a complete daze because of it. The ceiling was not his bedrooms', and the fabric underneath him wasn't his mattress, but rather his sofa. He had fallen asleep, again, in the living room, television flickering with adverts and the candle he had lit hours ago on its last legs.

His flat seemed bigger now that Benjy wasn't filling the space, not that he was ever round that much. He hadn't been shy about saying he preferred for the two of them to go to his, and even when Sirius had jested that Benjy had a problem with Sirius' flat, Benjy had never corrected him. It hadn't stung then, but it did now, especially when Sirius traipsed his eyes around the living room and seeing how mismatched it truly was—especially for someone with his surname and his bank balance.

Glancing back at his phone, Sirius noticed that Moony had replied, and he wasn't sure if it was the effects of the loneliness or the person's humour, but Sirius found himself smiling as he read the reply. He read it thrice before he attempted to come up with something, hesitant at taking the step to reply knowing it was gone 2 am and _How I Met Your Mother_ had taught him no good could come from things that happened after that time.

It was a show he had always liked, it had made him laugh before Benjy had entered his life and it would continue to make him laugh now he was gone. The show—like James—had always been there, a constant, something stable that kept him in place and unable to float away into the sky. Sirius relied on sitcoms heavily for that, for the brief break from his bleak life to live in a world that wasn't his own. He never shared his shows with anyone but James, keeping them to himself because he didn't want to create memories watching them with someone who wouldn't remain—Sirius had already lost far too much, he didn't want to lose his television.

> **S: I don't have a balcony, and I do have a garden, although I wouldn't call it large. But that is something to consider. What about this guy?**
> 
> **S:**

He didn't know whether to wait for a reply, but Sirius knew he wouldn't sleep either. Placing the phone down on the old coffee table, the one he had bargained for from the charity shop in the village, Sirius slowly stood, staring down at it one last time before heading into the kitchen. When he reached for a glass, Sirius was sure he heard the text tone signalling a reply—except his phone hadn't lit up; when he turned the tap on, he kept one eye on the doorway, attempting to see if light appeared near the sofa—it didn't. With a heavy sigh, Sirius drank the cool water, taking his time so not to choke but also to distract himself.

Sirius was close to the end, seeing the label he hadn't removed from the base when he heard the text tone, and saw the light in the corner of his eye, dropping the glass into the sink as he jolted, hearing it shatter as it met the metal. He practically skidded into the room, not sure why he had a giddy, butterfly sensation in his stomach, but it fluttered and tickled repeatedly.

> _R: That dog seems like you'd be forever finding hair in your food. Do you like hair-sandwiches, Padfoot?_

Sinking down onto his knee, curling into the arm of the sofa, Sirius grinned as he began to reply back.

> **S: Hair-sandwiches are a local delicacy, did you not know?**
> 
> _R: Ah, well since I may not be from your area, I did not. : suspicious eyes:_
> 
> **S: Where I'm from, if you haven't got a sandwich in your hair, you're doing it wrong.**  
>  **S: Hair in your sadwich*  
> ** **S: Sandwich****
> 
> _R: Your phones reluctance to type what you think tells me that you are lying Sir/Madam Padfoot._
> 
> **S: Sneaky Moony  
> ** **S: Sir. Although such formalities are usually saved for my father.**
> 
> _R: Duly noted. What about Mister Padfoot?_
> 
> **S: Still rather formal, if I do say so. What about just Padfoot?**
> 
> _R: Only if you call me Mr Moony. I like to be fancy._
> 
> **S: Do you wear a tie and a bowler hat?**
> 
> _R: Only all the time, it is the standard wardrobe attire. Don't tell me you don't?_
> 
> **S: Only when I am not wearing a three-piece with a fedora.  
> ** **S: With a feather reflecting the colour scheme of the day, of course.**
> 
> _R: Of course. How silly of me._
> 
> **S: Do you think they do fedoras for dogs?**

Remus should have tried to go back to sleep, but he was wired and more awake than he should be for such a time. He also felt buzzed, like he had drank so much caffeine he could climb the walls, and he suspected it had something to do with Padfoot.

It had been a while since anyone had wanted to talk to Remus, never mind for this length of time. Especially over useless things that didn't revolve around his pain or his comfortableness with social situations. With Padfoot, he was a blank slate and he could bury all the pain for a second and be the person underneath all of it—he could be the person he actually was, without painting the picture of his limp or the scars that littered his legs.

He knew diving into Google would only further delay going back to sleep, but the question had niggled him, and as soon as he began to type Fedora for... the search came up with dogs and he clicked it without question.

Remus had to bite down on his lip to not laugh loudly enough to wake his father, bringing his arm around his mouth as he buried the laugh into his skin. He had no idea what dog Padfoot would get, but the images he had seen would prove no matter what breed, a dog would look pretty cool—and hilarious—in a fedora.

> _R:_
> 
> _R:_
> 
> **S: Oh. My. Fucking. Christ.**  
>  **S: Yes.  
> ** **S: I don't care what dog I end up acquiring, the dog is having a fedora.**
> 
> _R: I love the fact you can have braces for a dog?_
> 
> **S: AND A FUCKING BOW TIE, MOONY! A BOW TIE.  
> ** **S: I should apologise for the language, because how bloody uncouth of me.  
> ** **S: Siriusly if you mind, tell me.**

Remus spluttered with laughter, burying his head quickly into his pillow to stifle it. He had no idea who Padfoot was, or what he looked like, but he didn't have him down as someone who used the word uncouth, which, ironically, only made Remus smile become a full-blown grin.

> _R: I don't. But I am heavily offended by the bad spelling of seriously. You need to sort your auto-correct out._
> 
> **S: Oh, Moony. If only you knew.**
> 
> _R: ?_
> 
> **S: Ah, another time I shall explain, but for now, I bid you goodnight.**

Sirius' heart was pounding. It felt too easy, he had found himself so close to saying his name—the one that would probably give himself away. Moony would stop texting, he wouldn't send him Etsy made dog attire, and Sirius would have to think about Benjy or being an adult, and neither of those sounded tempting.

> _R: I will hold you to that. goodnight Padfoot of Fedora, I bid you a good sleep.  
> _ _R: Don't let the bed bugs bite._
> 
> **S: I'll fend them off, Moony. Don't worry. Night.**

Sirius knew he wasn't going to get any sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

The problem with abusing other people's boundaries meant that others would often get their own back. Sirius was witness to that the following morning when he woke to find James in his front room, annoyingly clicking the remote. He had needed to rub his eyes twice before he could truly believe that he was here—in his home, without a key.

"Prongs?" Sirius asked solemnly, lifting his head from the sofa to gain a better look. "Did you break into my fucking flat?"

James only smirked. The same smirk that James had given in school when he was being told off after being caught with stink bombs by teachers or the one he had given to Evans before realising that it _just wasn't working._ Sirius wanted to inform him that it didn't work on him either, and he had been _practically_ family for years.

"Your phone has buzzed." Sirius' felt his stomach twist before he noticed James' eyes had moved to him. "Four times. Either _you_ have an admirer, _or_ you haven't turned off that continuous alert thing again."

James looked back at the television as he cockily licked his lips before clicking the remote. Sirius _wanted_ to move for the phone, but refrained, unsure if it was James' presence that held him back or his fear of seeming to keen. For someone that appeared so confident, Sirius couldn't find words to appropriately describe how nervous and anxious he was when he met someone new.

"You not going to get that?" James pushed, his attention focused on the latest channel.

Sirius narrowed his eyes but did not reply. His focus shifted to the rising pressure of needing the bathroom for his morning wee and the fluffy teeth from needing to brush. He grabbed his phone, throwing his legs from the sofa as he stood, stretching out his back before clicking the screen to see two messages.

Neither being from Moony.

He tried not to let his disappointment show, especially when he had no idea who the person was and that James was around to notice it. He slipped into the bathroom, taking sight of the bags under his eyes and the grey tinge to his skin, and tried heavily not to give up hope.

As he showered, Sirius reminded himself that _one_ , they had been talking into late hours, _two,_ Moony may have not have woken up, _three,_ he may also not want to appear too keen. Not that there was anything to be keen about, reminded Sirius' conscious, but the anxiousness that again someone else didn't want to talk to him niggled at him.

* * *

Remus didn't want to text.

He had turned the phone around in between his fingers for the better part of forty-six minutes and a handful of seconds.

Except, Remus _did_ want to text.

Having always hated communication via text or social media—mainly from fear he would be perceived wrong or taken out of context—he found a surprising amount of ease with texting Padfoot. Not only did the man find him funny, but he also seemed interested in texting back.

And so the usual anxious bout of _what do I do_ had occurred.

Remus' father, Lyall, had attempted to feign interest in his son's latest meltdown, but having noticed how forced it was, Remus had purposefully remained tight-lipped. He didn't need a lecture on how ' _things weren't_ _like that in my day'_ today, especially when Remus didn't really want to be this way either.

Lyall, although loving and caring as much as he could, was disconnected from Remus. He didn't understand how his _boy_ had so many feelings and emotions, having spoken out about men not being _real men_ in a motivational speech some years before Remus' fifth birthday. What Lyall presented to the world and what his reality were happened to have a stark difference. Remus carried the world on his shoulders, bursting into tears when everything became too much, and all Lyall could do was stare dumbfounded, unsure how to comfort his own son.

Remus had often heard his parents talk late into the night; his father's frustration over the widening gap between them and as years racked up, the two of them watched as it worsened from either side. Car rides to the hospital for scans of his joints or prescriptions for his pain were the only times they were forced together, and either guilt or the uncomfortableness kept them both silent.

Remus didn't like it either way.

It hadn't been so bad for either of them when Remus' mother, Hope, had been around. The two of them understood one another, both of them enjoying baking, cross-stitching, or even reading together—something Lyall did not. But when she passed over a bitter winter, what was left of their relationship crumbled, and now their conversations were mere polite exchanges.

"You keep staring at that phone it'll combust, y'know."

Remus bit down on his tongue, knowing that firing back that it was virtually impossible to do such a thing would only make breakfast even more uncomfortable.

"I don't understand those phones. All they do is beep and flash with odd messages about crushing sweets or mail that belongs to someone named G," Lyall tutted absently. "If it belongs to G why is it showing up on Tom, Dick, and 'arry's phone?"

Remus only smirked into his cup of tea.

* * *

 

> _R: My father thinks Gmail is someone named G's mail. I hope your day is fairing better?_
> 
> **S: If by better you mean covered in dog shit, then yes. Much better.**
> 
> _R: You found a dog that wanted to be saddled with an owner who can't spell serious then?_
> 
> **S: Worse.**  
>  **S: Wanking my friend's dog.  
>  ** **S: Walking****
> 
> _R: I am so glad I waited for that second text._
> 
> **S: I think I finally understand the phrase, every dog has its day.**
> 
> _R: I don't think you do._
> 
> **S: You're right.**
> 
> _R: What's the dog you're...walking?_
> 
> **S: Yorkshire terrier. It looks like a flying carpet. One second.**
> 
> **S:**
> 
> **S: If he runs quick, he's just a ball of fur.**
> 
> _R: Name?_
> 
> **S: Harold  
>  ** **S: Hairy for short.**
> 
> _R: Appropriate._
> 
> **S: The funny thing is he belongs to my friend whose surname is Meadows. Hairy Meadows.**
> 
> _R: I know someone who has named their dog Cheddar Pringle._
> 
> **S: That is now the best name ever.**
> 
> _R: They think so too. He has an Instagram._
> 
> **S: I am going to follow him right now.  
>  ** **S: Also, I am for sure going to set my dog up with an Instagram. I feel like that's what cool kids do.**
> 
> _R: I am considering now that you are not as cool as I first thought._
> 
> **S: I'm cooler, I assure you.**
> 
> _R: That's what uncool people would say._

* * *

Remus was sure he was having an identity crisis. He had lived through one when he turned twenty-three and he found himself bed bound after his second ligament reconstruction surgery for his knee. It had provided too much chance to think, and very little time to expel useless thoughts out into the wild. That had been the first time Remus had picked up his laptop and wrote anything, never mind Star Wars fanfiction.

He was sure he was experiencing another.

It began with him doubting every single thing he had achieved up until this point, even though he didn't actually feel he had accomplished a lot. It moved quickly into doubting that he even deserved a friend like Padfoot to text, if 'friend' could even be used for someone he had only texted for four days. Then it would find itself banging on the door of his entire sense, questioning if everything he was was wrong, until he had picked at every part of his personality until he felt so tired he could sleep forever. Except he didn't sleep. He never slept. His eyes ached from being awake for so long, so dry that he wasn't sure how his eye could still move in its socket.

> **S: I've decided it's uncool to wait for something funny to tell you, so I'm just going to ask you how you are today?**

Remus didn't want to be honest. If he was honest, he would more than likely drive Padfoot away. The man didn't need to hear how Remus was suffering today worse than usual because the rain wouldn't stop coming down, and the damp air made his joints hurt; Padfoot didn't need to read—or listen—to how Remus hated the scars that were all around his knee, hating the fact that short-wearing-weather was approaching.

So he didn't say any of that.

> _R: I'm good thank you, how are you?_

Padfoot wouldn't be able to tell he was lying, it was the one comfort from texting someone. They couldn't see him. They weren't able to see the deep lines set in over his brow because he was deep in concentration from not vomiting; the grey tinge to his skin from being so tired and drained.

> **S: I'm...okay?  
>  ** **S: I mean I'm not, I'm confused as hell. But, I don't know, I want to tell you because I feel comfortable too but then I don't because like, I don't fucking know you and yet, I kinda want to know you.  
>  ** **S: You know?**

Remus didn't, but he could understand and empathise. He was all set to reply that Padfoot deserves someone better in his life than himself—that he came with a truckload of issues that he wasn't sure he would ever get over. But he stopped, hearing the voice he often silenced in the back of his head. The one that told him not to shoot himself in the foot, like he always did.

> _R: What if I told you a bit about myself? Not too much, you could still be a murderer._
> 
> **S: I'd like that. Favourite food?**
> 
> _R: As a meal, my mum's casserole. To live off forever, strawberry bon-bons or chocolate. I'm not sure which one I could live without.  
>  _ _R: You?_
> 
> **S: Whisky chocolate by Hotel Chocolat. Yes, they're fancy, but when I was too young to drink I used to imagine I was getting drunk off them.  
>  ** **S: That and wine-gums.**

Remus smiled to himself, biting down on the inside of his mouth as he relaxed all of the muscles in his body. He didn't deserve him, whoever it was on the other side of the phone. Remus suspected he was nice, kind, and more than likely good-looking—although the chances he would be talking to someone who also fancied himself with a man seemed more unlikely the longer Remus thought about it.

> _R: Favourite song? 'Long As I Can See The Light' is mine._
> 
> **S: Creedence Clearwater? I'm impressed.  
>  ** **S: Kashmir, Led Zepplin.**

Fuck, he thought to himself. His eyes moving to the record sleeve on the shelf of the very album. He rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as he tutted to himself.

"Mum, if this has anything to do with you, I will curse your name," Remus whispered to himself as he lowered his head back to the phone. "Bloody sending me a person who likes Led Zepplin."

> _R: It is an amazing song, good choice.  
>  _ _R: Wait, you seen Star Wars?_

He didn't know why, but Remus held his breath. It wasn't a deal breaker, in a sense, because there was no deal to be made. But, he wasn't sure he could be friends with someone who hadn't—not really anyways—although, he really couldn't be picky, especially when not many people wished to be friends with him. 

> **S: I feel like you're going to hate me.**

Remus' heart was in his throat, beating furiously. Thudding out of his skin. His brain completely silent so he could hear every thud.

> **S: I've seen the new one, and have every intention of watching the old ones. But.**
> 
> _R: But?_
> 
> **S: I'm not someone that can usually sit and watch a film, never mind knowing there are three I need to watch. I don't have a great attention span.**
> 
> _R: I don't hate you.  
>  _ _R: Although I should :narrowed eyes:  
>  _ _R: But I will let you live for another day._
> 
> **S: Your graciousness has been noted, Mr Moony.**

Remus laughed out loud at that part.

He shouldn't feel as much as he does, Remus knows this because he's a logical person. But he does. He feels like he's known this person forever, and they just lost touch and reconnected.

> _R: Worst memory?_
> 
> **S: Oo deep for a murderer.  
>  ** **S: I like.  
>  ** **S: Realising I'll never be the son my mother wants and leaving one afternoon, and noticing that she doesn't come after me.**

Remus allows his mouth to fall open, and he wants to take his foot and ram it into his throat. He's an idiot, a stupid person who clearly cannot talk to anyone, never mind someone they think they have a connection too. He's half tempted to dash his phone, take away any chance of him annoying anyone again in the future, but then his phone vibrates.

> **S: I'm fine though. Promise. It sucked, but now it doesn't.  
>  ** **S: Butterfly effect: if I hadn't of left home, we may never have texted.**

He wasn't sure he deserved someone so optimistic.

> _R: You are a cup-half-filled kinda person aren't you?  
>  _ _R: Also known as, annoying SOB's._
> 
> **S: One day when you aren't a murderer, I'll tell you something funny about what you just said.**
> 
> _R: Deal._  
>  _R: And for fairness.  
>  _ _R: Mine was realising that I'd never be a normal child, or a normal teenager, or adult. Realising that my body is somewhat broken and even modern medicine can't fix it._
> 
> **S: I'm really sorry.  
>  ** **S: That must fucking suck.**
> 
> _R: It sucks so bad.  
>  _ _R: But, butterfly effect.  
>  _ _R: You're having a terrible influence on me._
> 
> **S: I think you like it.**

Remus couldn't help himself, he blushed.

* * *

Sirius had a spring in his step.

It was the same spring that had found him when he had left his family behind and became _adopted_ by the Potters. It was similar to the first date _spring-step_ Sirius got after a wicked first date, and most of all, it was the spring that showed everyone that Sirius Black was in fighting form.

He walked confidently down the high street, occasionally smiling at strangers as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Every time—even if he had been in the middle of a texting frenzy with James—Sirius hoped it would be Moony.

The two of them had been texting for a solid month. They had days where they didn't communicate, and it broke Sirius a little more than he knew it should, but as soon as the first text came in after that gap, Sirius was right as rain all over again.

> _R: I don't think you want to see my face, Pads._
> 
> **S: Um, I think I do, Mr Moony. Plus, how better than to celebrate our one month anniversary of talking.**

He wasn't sure exactly how the conversation had moved on from Sirius not talking to his family to demanding a picture of Moony, but he had a good idea it was more because of him than Moony. It had been over a day since the initial text had been sent, and while Moony hadn't said _no_ , he also hadn't sent the picture.

> **S: If you're worried I'd not want to talk to you because of your face, then you have got me down all wrong.**  
>  **S: You're stuck with me.  
>  ** **S: Forever.  
>  ** **S: Unless you block me.**
> 
> _R: I'm sure you'd still find me._

Sirius laughed, natural and easy. He always did when it came to Moony. He didn't need to know the sound of his voice— _well,_ he did—but he knew it was dry, with a lot of sarcasm and sass to it that made Sirius' heart flutter.

He had been scared initially by the feeling, wondering what on earth could be wrong with him to have a crush on someone he didn't know or have a picture of. But after an insane night of googling, Sirius came to terms with the fact that not only did he have a crush, he suspected he had feelings for Moony deeper than what was apparently showing to him.

James had _always_ said that Sirius kept his heart on his sleeve, even if he didn't look the type. In school, he had been an arsehole, pompous and bigheaded, swanning around with faux confidence that came across as righteousness. He was often called a bully behind his back, and Sirius wasn't surprised by the title, even when he looked back he could agree. But underneath all of it, there was a softness that James had seen, a side to him that Sirius tried to hide but came out to certain people.

" _You have the biggest heart, Black."_

" _Shut up, Potter. I do not. I hate feelings. Yuk."_

_James snorted. "Then why do you feel guilt over Snivellus?"_

Sirius wasn't proud over his school day, especially now he was older. The guilt over nearly causing his classmate to be killed was one that had shackled around his feet and would never let go. He knew that. He accepted that. It didn't make him better because he recognised it was wrong, he shouldn't have cut the brake lines on the bike to begin with, and he shouldn't have told Snape to get on it. If not for James, Sirius wouldn't have finished school, he wouldn't be outside walking the high street and he wouldn't be texting Remus.

> _R: I don't know why you need to see my face. What if I sent you my favourite jumper?_
> 
> _R:_
> 
> _R: See, cute? And what did you say? That's enough, oh thank goodness ;)_
> 
> **S: I'm a very visual person, Moony. And while I do like that the RJL stitched into your jumper chest, I really do want to know who I'm talking too.**

It was a risky move. One Sirius could pull off with ease in person—he had always been a smooth talker. The only gift from his family he didn't mind.

> _R: I think you're setting yourself up for disappointment._
> 
> **S: You siriusly don't know that.**
> 
> _R: When I find out why you spell that word like that I'm going to be embarrassed aren't I?_
> 
> **S: Stop changing the subject.  
>  ** **S: RJL.**
> 
> **S:  
>  ** **S: Your turn.**

* * *

Remus' mother had always told him he was brave. He was brave for asking help— _although_ he hadn't ever really _asked_ for it. He was brave for working through his rehabilitation. He was brave for being open with his feelings. He was brave.

Staring down at his phone, Remus had never thought his mother was more wrong. Ever.

"Just take the damn picture."

Remus swallowed, lifting his eyes to meet Peter's, who was stuffing his face with a bag of popcorn.

"Selfie's are not my game, Pettigrew."

Peter crunched the mouthful of popcorn, and Remus wasn't sure if it was done intentionally so he'd scratch his eyeballs out or if Peter just didn't understand how annoying the sound was. They were supposed to be at the cinema. It had been planned for hours in advance, with Peter even offering to come round and ease Remus into a social setting by being with him.

So far, it hadn't worked.

Peter had asked questions, he had prodded at subjects Remus wanted to hold close to his chest. And while Peter was doing nothing wrong, Remus felt like everything was wrong.

"Do you want me to take a picture of you?" Peter offered, a soft smile passing over his face that should have calmed Remus.

It didn't.

Remus sighed, shaking his head softly as he looped the sleeve of his jumper around his hand. Peter was the _only_ one who understood him, not completely but enough. He knew he could open up, he could tell his friend what was running through his mind. The layers of concerns and worries; the anxiousness that was burning holes in his lungs, making breathing harder and harder.

"Do you want me to ring Cassie?"

Remus shook his head. Dorcas, the first friend Remus had ever made in nursery and the one with a 101 in Remus Lupin, wasn't who he needed. She would tease him, make him feel silly for being worried.

"I need you, Pete," Remus mumbled almost embarrassingly. "I think I like him, but…"

Peter frowned, the topic of sexuality was one often misunderstood by Peter. Which was actually why he was perfect. Dorcas had known she liked girls before she even had liked a girl. Remus had taken longer to figure himself out, almost twenty-five years.

"Him? So you're...?"

Remus sighed. "I _think_ so? It's all very... _new_? I guess. I mean, I don't know what he thinks, he could be like you."

Peter gasped. "And what about me is so bad, _Lupin_?"

The corners of Remus' mouth twitched, a smirk passing over his lips as a picture filled the screen. "I meant straight, Pete. But, I don't think I can avoid this any longer."

He turned the screen to show Peter, and even though Remus wasn't looking at it, he couldn't understand the god- _like_ image that had blessed his eyes. Long, to the shoulder, dark curly hair. Sun-kissed, almost olive or tanned, skin, awoke something in Remus he wasn't sure had ever been there. Then there was the smile, the cheeky, knee-melting grin that had made his heart rate double and cause his FitBit to consider that Remus was having some sort of heart attack.

"Okay, even if you don't, I would," Peter said as he whistled, "that man is handsome as fuck."

Remus turned the screen back to face him, his lips curling as he saw past the cracks of his glass and the person staring up at him. "Indeed."

* * *

Sirius hadn't expected silence after his selfie. Least of all for thirty minutes. He tried to busy himself with counting how many clouds in the sky he passed, but he quickly became bored of that. He didn't want to look at his phone, not wanting to admit he had a problem, but not looking at it made it feel heavier, like it was burning a hole in his pocket as he tried to pretend it didn't exist. Sirius may have been the king of avoiding his issues for a long time before today, but today was different. The air felt different; he felt different.

It was the very reason he lost his shit in the street when his text tone sounded.

 

> _R: Well. This is awkward._
> 
> _R: How are you so attractive? Are you even real?_

Least it was an acknowledgement—a confirmation that Moony had received the image. It did, however, make him blush like a stupid teenager, thoroughly distracting him from noticing Benjy, who was walking his way. His fingers were typing so quickly, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he wore his usual _Moony-smirk._

"Sirius!"

He almost dropped his phone as he looked up. "Fen– _Benjy?_ What a...odd surprise?"

He shrugged. And even in their near three-month-long separation, Sirius felt like very little had changed.

"You look good, Sirius."

He didn't want to comment that of _course_ he did, because Sirius didn't want to be cocky. Even if he wasn't entirely sure that he did, it was only because Moony had just convinced him he had.

"Thanks," Sirius awkwardly mumbled, playing with the volume on his phone as he felt it vibrate.

> _R: Here goes nothing._
> 
> _R: Apologies in advance._

His heart quickened, and Sirius felt his palms turn sweaty.

"So, anything new?" Benjy asked, and Sirius didn't miss how forced it was or how pushy it was intended. "That someone new?"

Sirius tapped the phone against his hand, trying to steady his breathing and seem less bothered than he was. But he was bothered. Moony was about to show his face. His _actual_ face. And Sirius was stood here, with his ex-boyfriend, who was attempting to find out information he had long ago lost the right too.

"Maybe," Sirius smirked. "You?"

Smooth. He thought to himself.

Benjy's jaw tensed. "Look, I know that things are awkward right now but we can still be…"

But Sirius wasn't listening.

Not even a little bit.

> _R:_

"Holy _fuck."_

Sirius' eyes widened. His throat constricted and became dry, and as he stared down at the bright, warm green eyes, Sirius wasn't sure how he could have ever waited so long to see them. Never mind the nose, the small freckle-covered nose; the curly hair, short on the inside but thick on the top, mouse-coloured, but with so many shades running through it he wanted to individually find out each one.

"You alright, Si?"

He looked up, mouth open. "I think I'm in love with a green-eyed _book_ monster."

Benjy frowned before hissing a, " _What_?"

Sirius simply turned his phone, seeing the green-eyed monster appear in the very place of his ex-boyfriend.

* * *

> **S: You are hot as hell.**
> 
> _R: Coming from a model, hmm._
> 
> **S: You are!**  
>  **S: You rendered me speechless. Which is hard to do.  
>  ** **S: I talk a lot.**
> 
> _R: Somehow that doesn't surprise me.  
>  _ _R: I showed my friend your picture._
> 
> **S: I showed my ex.  
>  ** **S: Which sounds weird without context. He saw me in the street, and was 'being awkward' when you sent it.**
> 
> _R: Ok_
> 
> **S: I mean, I wasn't awkward. I quite liked having you make my day if I'm honest.**  
>  **S: Moony?  
>  ** **S: Hello?**
> 
> _R: Hi._
> 
> **S: You mad?**
> 
> _R: Uncomfortable. But not mad.  
>  _ _R: I have questions._
> 
> **S: Okay?**
> 
> _R: Not my place._
> 
> **S: He ended things. But I'm happy he did. I was unhappy with him.  
>  ** **S: If that's what you're worried about.**
> 
> _R: No._  
>  _R: Not worried.  
>  _ _R: :)_
> 
> **S: Weirdly enough I know you're being weird because you're using an emoji.  
>  ** **S: It's prime Moony-weirdness.**
> 
> _R: Remus._
> 
> **S: I'm sorry?**
> 
> _R: My name.  
>  _ _R: Remus.  
>  _ _R: I'm Remus and I'm bisexual._

* * *

All of the air in Sirius' flat seemed to shift to tension. It was like Remus was here, sat across from him, bright green eyes burning into him. He would be in the thick jumper, initials printed on his clothing, a book on his lap, and he'd just be staring, waiting for an answer to a question that wasn't said.

He knew the implication. Sirius knew the awkwardness.

He felt it too.

It had confused him enough over too many evenings. How could he like someone he didn't know? Especially when he hadn't seen his face.

But now Sirius had. It was better than he imagined, softer, almost kinder. It added an edge to Remus' sharp sarcasm and wit; it made it more personal, made Remus more available.

 _Remus_. Even his name was nice. It flowed easily through Sirius' thoughts. It moved almost comfortably, and as he whispered it to only himself, it filled the air almost pleasantly.

Sirius smiled at the empty chair he imagined Remus would be sat in. He grinned at the unknown he was facing, and gripped his phone a little tighter.

* * *

 

> **S: I'm Sirius. My name.  
>  ** **S: And I like you.**


	3. Chapter 3

Remus's heart had _nearly_ stopped as he waited for a reply. He could feel Peter watching him, cautiously waiting on the end of the bed for a sign of a breakdown or the need for reassuring words. He didn't really need any, Remus was already in full-panic mode, his face out there for someone else to judge, someone who he didn't _even_ really know. Remus may have been able to cope with just that, but he also had, obviously and stupidly, told the man his name; he had given this _stranger_ his name and his face, and he could take neither back.

They were out there, hovering in the world. Possibly in front of eyes that would judge him and condemn Remus for not being more than he was.

Rolling the phone in his hand, Remus hesitated after one twist, half wanting to dash the phone into the wall. He didn't need a phone, barely anyone spoke to him, and even if they did, they wouldn't miss him for long. Everyone always moved on eventually, realising that Remus was either not coming or had little time to make an effort. And, if Remus' phone did happen to _be_ broken, surely it didn't happen?

Surely there was some rule that underpinned technology at even its most basic form. If the device used to make mistakes were in fact destroyed, wouldn't the mistake become void? Like the infinity stone, one click, and Remus' error would vanish into dust, settling on the ground at his feet, blending in with his carpet.

Remus _could_ eventually get a new phone and contract. He'd be able to pretend he hadn't put himself out there, tell himself it was all a bad dream until he believed it.

He knew that was all untrue; he'd never be able too. Remus moved his weight from his toes to the back of his foot, biting down on his lip as he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, feeling his knuckles digging into his skull as he began to pace. Three forward, _three back_. Never to the side, Remus never paced sideways; it made him dizzy.

With his phone resting against his cheek, his cold fingers against his skull, Remus tried to breathe. He tried to push the sick sensation to the side, continuing to believe if he paid it no attention, it would simply disappear. It didn't. When his eyes began to hurt from straining to keep them open, so afraid if he closed them he'd replay his mistake all over again, including the daft pose he had just done. And when his stomach had knotted into a tighter knot than a sailor could make, Remus felt his phone buzz against his teeth, sending vibrations up to his hairline.

_He_ had replied.

_Sirius_.

Remus let his name roll around his brain a few times, standing perfectly still, almost like a statue he had seen in at a museum before a slow—but warm—smile began to grow over Remus' lips.

Sirius. _Sirius_. Sirius.

Then he grinned proudly, letting it fall over the rest of him. It allowed his shoulders lift and paused the aching in his bones.

Serious, Sirius. _Sirius, serious._

Remus forgot all about Peter sat waiting; Remus forgot he was even in his room, the walls and ground seemingly vanishing from around him, and Remus was stood in a field as Sirius approached him. He walked towards him, tall—although Remus knew he didn't actually know how tall Sirius was—dressed in black, sporting a smirk that only people of handsome calibre can pull off.

A cushion flew through the field, and Remus watched it curiously before it connected with his face, and the walls and floor returned to him, Sirius fading from sight.

" _Oi_ , Lupin!" Peter hissed. "You still there or you vanished off to some distant world again?"

Remus nodded, his eyes fleetingly going from his friend to his phone. "He likes me."

"Well… _yeah_?" Peter said as he laughed, pulling a packet of peanuts from his pocket—which would usually make a ton of questions arise for Remus but today, with Sirius in his hand, Remus merely ignored them. "I mean, _c'mon, Lupin_. That much was bloody obvious."

He frowned, pursing his lips as he wiggled them side-to-side. His brain was still trying to run through all of their conversations, attempting to piece together when it had _become_ so obvious, and _yet_ Remus hadn't noticed it.

"Y'need to text him back," Peter said, his mouthful of peanuts.

Usually, the sight would disgust Remus, the thought of the crumbs and the possible half-eaten peanut rolling under some furniture.

"Oi, Lupin?" Remus shook his head, blinking back to the present. "Text him before he thinks you aren't interested, yeah? You a bit warm, too? Your cheeks are a furious red."

* * *

> _R: And suddenly, you spelling serious wrong makes a lot more sense now._
> 
> **S: Witty bastard aren't I?  
> ** **S: I mean. I AM a witty bastard. But at least now you're aware.**
> 
> _R: You're something for sure._
> 
> **S: I really want to be so cool, and respond with something just as flirtatious and leave you as red as I currently am. But, you're quick Remus.**  
>  **S: Remus.  
> ** **S: Remus, Remus.**
> 
> _R: Yes?_
> 
> **S: Cute name.  
> ** **S: For a rather cute man.**
> 
> _R: Ugh._
> 
> **S: Problem with me calling you cute, Remus?**
> 
> _R: I don't think it is the best adjective to describe a man. I mean, cats are cute. Dogs are cute. Men in their twenties? Maybe not so much.  
> _ _R: Still red._
> 
> **S: Ah, you're twenty-ish. Intriguing.  
> ** **S: And bingo.**
> 
> _R: So I can be as transparent as I can, I'm twenty-six._
> 
> **S: Same**  
>  **S: How freaky  
> ** **S: Freaky… Friday.**
> 
> _R: Have you actually seen that movie?  
> _ _R: It is also not Friday_
> 
> **S: I have not.**  
>  **S: Fine, Freaky Wednesday.  
> ** **S: But I think some people just call that hump day.**
> 
> _R: By some, you mean just you.  
> _ _R: We'll correct that one night, I think you'll like it. I can only imagine you share some similar tendencies with the main character._
> 
> **S: I'm not sure if I should be offended. But I'm down for date night.**  
>  **S: If… it is a date after all.**  
>  **S: Feel I jumped the gun.**  
>  **S: Here, have a puppy.**  
>  **S:**  
>  **S: Also, hump day is a national thing said about Wednesday.**
> 
> _R: Should I be worried at how quickly you were able to grab that picture?_
> 
> **S: Possibly.  
> ** **S: But then I'd have to admit how many pictures I have of dogs on my phone for this sort of moment.**
> 
> _R: For transparency, I would class it as a date too, by the way.  
> _ _R: Do I need to call someone about your obsession with four-legged fur things?_
> 
> **S: Should I dress up.  
> ** **S: For the date?**
> 
> _R: I mean, you don't have too. But it is the first date, and I don't usually give up the goodies on the first date anyways. Maybe some clothes are advisable unless you prefer being naked._
> 
> **S: You have NO idea.**
> 
> _R: Christ.  
> _ _R: I hate being naked._
> 
> **S: Clearly not been in the right company, Remus.  
> ** **S: How red are you on a scale of 1-10?**
> 
> _R: 10000_
> 
> **S: Cute.**

* * *

Biting his lip, Sirius pondered whether this was all a little... _much._

Was it odd to have developed feelings for someone he had never met? _Possibly._ But it was undeniable, even if he knew how strange it was. There was something about Remus that pulled him in, and he didn't want to think soul-mates, and he didn't want to consider life having a plan for him. But there were _undeniable_ things Sirius had done for and with Remus, that Sirius had also never done before for anyone, not even a friend.

There were times he stayed up, even if he was tired, just waiting for Remus to reply; there were times when he'd worry because he hadn't heard from him, wondering if it would be okay to call, even though neither of them ever did that.

Plus, Sirius cared—much more than he usually did.

Maybe that was what Benjy had meant. Sirius had been _exceptionally_ selfish when he was with Benjy. Sirius had cared only about himself, but with Remus, he worried, he cared—and he couldn't stop thinking about him. Which wasn't unusual, Sirius could care, it was just _who_ he cared about that fluctuated. Sirius loved James like a brother; Sirius loved Regulus even though his brother made wrong choices and said horrible things. Sirius was capable of love, just not when it came to Benjy—and in reality, it had been selfish of him to hold on to him, just out of fear of being alone.

Fear of being left behind.

Sirius hated being lonely, and he hated his bed being cold when he rolled over. It was why he had always kept it warm in college, not even knowing the names of those who occupied it.

Lowering the phone to his lap, staring out over the room, it hit Sirius _exactly_ what Benjy had needed him to learn.

He _loved_ Benjy, but he _wasn't_ in _love_ with him.

Sirius didn't know if it was possible to develop _deep_ feelings for someone he hadn't met, but he was sure he had them for Remus. It had been a month, an excellent month of conversing and jokes. He had learnt somethings, like the fact Remus didn't really appreciate being texted repeatedly in the middle of the night—even if Sirius was lonely. Remus also didn't enjoy the rain, Sirius hadn't learnt why yet.

* * *

> _R: Do you find it a little weird how quickly we got here? To the 'feeling' stage._
> 
> **S: I feel like you can hear my thoughts.**
> 
> _R: Oh.  
> _ _R: ?_
> 
> **S: I was thinking the same thing.**
> 
> _R: Oh. :)_
> 
> **S: Not a bad thing, just… I was. I mean, I guess to some people it could be weird. It's definitely not traditional.**  
>  **S: But then I hate traditions.  
> ** **S: With a passion.**
> 
> _R: I feel there is a story behind that statement._
> 
> **S: Yeah. For another day though.  
> ** **S: I rather like today and don't want to ruin it.**
> 
> _R: It's raining.  
> _ _R: If that is anything._
> 
> **S: Ah, Moody Moony approaching. Warning. Warning.**
> 
> _R: Sometimes I forget how funny you are._  
>  _R: For a second, I'll just think: 'Sirius is a nice guy, who randomly fell into my life', and then I'll go: 'Oh Sirius, he's such a wise-cracker of a man'.  
> _ _R: It's odd how I just forget._
> 
> **S: **Curtseys****  
>  **S: I think you love my comedic side.**  
>  **S: I mean like, obviously.**  
>  **S: Love seems a bit of a strong word, possibly.  
> ** **S: Remus?**
> 
> _R: Oh I'm here, but watching someone else unravel is rather fun.  
> _ _R: You know, because it is usually me and I feel I'm fairing up quite well right now._
> 
> **S: You're evil.  
> ** **S: Do you have a cat?**
> 
> _R: I mean, no? And that would have been a thing that would have come up.  
> _ _R: Don't tell me you're considering a cat now._
> 
> **S: No.  
> ** **S: And you're not bald? You'd be a terrible evil villain.**
> 
> _R: Or so you think  
> _ _R: Maybe it's the quiet ones you have to be careful of, you thought of that?_
> 
> **S: I've heard that phrase used a lot, but it usually means something different.**
> 
> _R: Care to explain?_
> 
> **S: The quiet ones are usually the kinkiest.  
> ** **S: How red are you now?**
> 
> _R: I think people can see me from space._
> 
> **S: God, I like you.**

* * *

If Remus' father thought anything of Remus suddenly taking an interest in his phone all the time, Lyall didn't speak them. He just looked occasionally as the phone lit up as Remus pretended to be interested in making sure butter had been spread all across his slice of toast.

After the 'I-don't-understand-phone' conversation, Remus had never broached the topic again. He found it was always the most straightforward way, avoid the subject at hand and the two of them wouldn't disagree.

That and the game Remus made when he was younger, ignore Lyall's obvious discomfort and need to talk about something until the man erupted. It was a game he had mastered when he was younger, ignore his father's apparent hints at sparking a conversation until the tension became palpable and Lyall babbled about something that wasn't _intended_ to hurt Remus' feelings, but always did. When Remus reflected on his game, he noticed how lose-lose it really was for him, but he hadn't been able to stop since he began it, and now he was older, it became even harder.

Lyall Lupin was an older man. There was a considerable age-gap between Remus and him, more so than one would usually expect between father and son, and it did nothing to help bridge the awkward conversational gap that was always present. Remus' mother had done a better job at helping them talk, but in recent months, they had mainly grunted or spoke to one another's doors' more than they did to one another. It would bother Remus more if he felt they had a relationship, to begin with, but he didn't feel they did.

"Your phone is flashing."

Remus nodded, continuing to swipe the knife up and down the toast.

"Remus?" Lyall said slightly sharper. "If ya' not careful, that thing'll vibrate right off the table."

Arching his brow, Remus smirked slowly. "It isn't on vibrate. Remember? You hated the sound, ordered me to turn it off."

Lyall's cheeks turned pink, and his hand rubbed at his stubble. "Just answer your bleeding phone, could be summat important."

"It's a man."

Lyall stared at Remus, a mixture of dumbfoundedness and shock that Remus had even answered. If Remus was honest, he was a little surprised he had shared such information himself, but he tried to play it off.

Clearing his throat, Lyall folded the paper and placed it down cautiously. "A man, eh? A man like Peter, or a man like your mum? No, I mean—well, y'know what I mean don't ya lad. Like, a man you sorta—y'know—well—"

"Yes, dad," Remus said quickly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as Remus began to feel his face heating up. "Like… a person who makes you feel all… jittery inside."

Rubbing his hands awkwardly, his elbows on the table—something Lyall Lupin never did—he bit down on the inside of his mouth as his eyes glanced from Remus to the photograph behind him. It was the one where all three of them were _all_ smiling. Whenever his father found himself in some moral quandary or set to implode over something Remus did, his eyes always moved to the photo.

"You like this lad then?"

Remus nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Good on ya," Lyall said, adding nothing else to it as he picked up the paper once more. "Everyone deserves a bit of love, even you."

He tried to find the good in the conversation, Remus tried so hard. But the balloon that had begun to inflate inside of him, popped as the words met his ears, 'even you'. He tried laboriously not to be disappointed, but… Remus _was_.

* * *

> _R: Tell me your Sunday is better than mine.  
> _ _R: Because my dad and I just had one of our bonding conversations and I'm feeling fantastic._
> 
> **S: Well, I'm going to cook for my friend today.**  
>  **S: So you may see my face on the news later.  
> ** **S: 'Man murders friends with bad cooking'.**
> 
> _R: Sounds... nice? I always like to see a handsome face at tea time.  
> _ _R: Do you even know how to cook?_
> 
> **S: I know enough not to starve, and I was forced to do cooking classes at school.  
> ** **S: Obviously, I passed them with flying colours.**
> 
> _R: Which means you failed.  
> _ _R: With no colours?_
> 
> **S: I fear you know me too well, Remus.**

Scratching the back of his head, Sirius flexed his fingers as he tried to focus. He _could_ do this. Sirius could cook for James and Lily, and he could provide them with an evening that doesn't involve them thinking he's a human disaster. It _could_ happen, although Sirius was sure they would still leave suspicious he hadn't got his shit together.

> _R: What are you cooking?_

Sirius caught the glow of his screen lighting up and immediately darted for it. The chicken needed an hour and a half in the oven, and he needed it to be done before the rest could go in— _damn_ the small oven that came with the flat. He could do all of this, he had hours—and so he definitely had time to reply.

> **S: A Sunday roast.  
> ** **S: Which is both stressful and rewarding.**
> 
> _R: Ouch.  
> _ _R: You must be a good cook if you can even *think* of tackling such a dish._
> 
> **S: It is hard to read your sarcasm through text, but I'm going to assume you're being caring and understanding.**
> 
> _R: Fair.  
> _ _R: For the record, I wasn't being._

Turning his phone upside down, Sirius tried to think clearly for a moment. He couldn't fight it, the large smile that had etched over his face; the one that had taken a permanent residence there since the second-week fo him and Remus talking, when Remus was just Moony. He wondered if it had been long enough he could ask why Remus had picked Moony, or if the name had no meaning at all.

He also didn't want to add to his plate. Knowing that Remus was having a difficult day forced Sirius to go into protective mode, something he only found was activated when it came to Regulus or James; because of this, Sirius found it quite jarring he could feel such a strong emotion for someone who he _used_ to know only as Moony.

Instead of asking, Sirius simply left his phone for a second. It was three hours until James and Lily would knock on the door—or in James' case, let himself in. He needed to be a little prepared, and he didn't want Remus to think he was too keen. Sirius didn't want to blow this, not when he found himself thinking about Remus every second, of every minute, of every day since he had received a text from him.

Turning the temperature dial, setting the oven to preheat, Sirius began to pierce open the plastic covering the chicken. This wasn't a big deal, he had cooked at home for his family—it had been a requirement if he was honest—and no one had ever _died_ or became poisoned.

He could do this.

Sirius could _definitely_ do this.

> **S: Remus, I don't think I can do this.**

Sirius bit down on his lip, a little mad at himself that he had cracked so soon and picked his phone up, but also that he had shared something so personal. He didn't want Remus to think of him as immature or incapable, but he also really wasn't fucking sure he could do this.

> _R: If your friends are willingly coming to eat, then you can do this Sirius.  
> _ _R: Have some faith.  
> _ _R: I'd definitely eat anything you gave me. :)_

* * *

Remus missed Sirius.

He had become such a constant in his life, Remus rarely had time to be without him. His time was spent between reading, writing, and replying to Sirius. It worked well, and remarkably Remus' mood had improved vastly—much to the surprise of his father and Doctor. Even his physiotherapist had said he had moaned less during their session, not that it was much in consolation, Remus moaned purposefully in the hope they'd discharge him on the grounds he was difficult. Currently, his plan had failed.

Even if he found everything in his life brightening with Sirius in it, Remus did feel the need to _keep_ something back. Like the diagnosis- _not-diagnosis_ Remus had. And the panic attacks. And the depression. And the various other things Remus had collected along the way. It was best, for now at least, to guard them against Sirius—or as Peter said, _let the crazy out in slow doses._

He had only been partially offended by Peter's wording, but he didn't tell him this—Remus felt it was easier to keep it to himself.

> _R: How's cooking going? Or do I need to call 999_
> 
> **S: Ha**  
>  **S: Ha**  
>  **S: Ha**  
>  **S: You're the funniest guy, Remus.  
> ** **S: Should be a comic.**
> 
> _R: I'll think about it.  
> _ _R: How's the roast?_
> 
> **S:**  
>  **S: It looked nicer, but I ate the skin**
> 
> _R: You… ate the skin?_
> 
> **S: I ate the skin.**  
>  **S: I was hungry. And stressed.  
> ** **S: Remus, I forked that skin off and ate it like a gremlin.**
> 
> _R: You've never been more attractive to me._
> 
> **S: I need to hear your voice so I can establish a tone here. I'm struggling with this sarcasm malarkey.**
> 
> _R: If it's easier for you, just assume they are always compliments._
> 
> **S: Oh, you know I will.  
> ** **S: But SIRIUSLY it would be very helpful to have a voice to match the very handsome face.**
> 
> _R: Maybe soon.  
> _ _R: That okay? I don't want to be difficult._

Remus placed his phone down on the bed, curling his toes into the carpet as he lowered his chin to his chest. In slow, almost elongated breaths, Remus tried to steady the nerves in his body, the ones raging through him, making him want to get up and pace. But he didn't, he tried to sit with it, tried to see what ' _the worst thing that could happen_ ' as his therapist said whenever she could. Remus focused on the fake flowers in the vase on the window, and how the colour of their petals had begun to fade; Remus concentrated on the book on the shelf, the one that didn't belong and Peter must have moved when he was last round.

And then Sirius' text tone blared out. And Remus' heart stopped.

> **S: Soon is perfect with me.**  
>  **S: We can take this however you want too, we have to be on the same page.  
> ** **S: Although, for the record, and to be transparent.**
> 
> Remus sniggered, watching the three dots remain on his screen.
> 
> **S: My voice is hands down, drop-your-pants-sexy.  
> ** **S: Y'know if that information sways you at all.**
> 
> _R: Can't wait for you to prove it._

Remus blushed so brightly he was sure he could become a lighthouse for the nearest port city by him, but he didn't care. He had never been this bold. He had never felt the need to be this bold, or ever wanted too, and Remus wasn't ready to let that go.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

Thankfully for Remus, Sirius didn't continue _that_ conversation.

If Sirius had forced Remus to explain _how_ he would prove it—which he was grateful, he hadn't, because Remus hadn't got the foggiest. He would have been forced to fold into himself like his old fold-out bed, the one that caused more injuries than provided good night sleeps. The one that creaked when he lay against it and had been bought for _practicality and space,_ rather than for Remus actually to rest in; his father had thought it would be a good idea, but Remus learnt quickly from that age that his father's 'good' ideas were never really that good.

Trying to explain himself would have been more embarrassing, and he didn't think he'd ever be able to text Sirius again if Sirius had to 'metaphorically' pull him out of his own made-up, 'fold-out-bed'.

Of course, Remus had thoughts of _what_ he could do to Sirius, how could he not after that picture? But there was no way, not on this green earth, that Remus would be able to confess them. How he would even do that, he wasn't even sure? And as soon as he began to think of it too intently, Remus found himself picking the skin from his lip and nervously tapping his fingers against his phone.

> **S: How many hours do you have to wait before you can call a meal successful?**

Remus' lips curled into a smirk, his teeth realising his skin and his nerves suddenly calming. Crossing his legs awkwardly on the bed as he leaned back into the pillows and headboard, Remus traced his thumbs over the keyboard on his phone.

> _R: I think food poisoning can take anything from a few hours to a few days to show. So, don't think you can start dancing already._
> 
> **S: Too late.  
>  ** **S: Although, I do not dance. I fist pump or I mosh. There is no in between.**
> 
> _R: And there was me thinking you were pirouetting. How disappointing._
> 
> **S: Is that a sex move?  
>  ** **S: Because I'll give anything a go.**
> 
> _R: No, Sirius. No, it is not._
> 
> **S: See, now we are both disappointed. This isn't how our conversations are supposed to go.**

Remus wanted to reply that he was never disappointed when he was talking to Sirius, if anything, he wore a stupid grin and a blush on his cheek Remus wasn't sure he could rid for love or money. But he didn't say that, because it was far too soon for such a confession, and really, how much did Remus know about him? He didn't even know his last name!

He remembered when he ' _met'_ Alice on the internet. He had been scrolling, absently liking things and reblogging them, not realising he was spamming her—or, _LongyOttoman_. When Remus learnt her surname was Longbottom he had cracked up so loud his dad had been worried. But that had been different, Alice was someone he hadn't given his number too or his name for quite some time. They built up to that, slowly taking their time. With Sirius, it had been the opposite.

Remus had remained only on the website's messaging system. Alice, or Longy at this point, was overexcitable and so kind, Remus wasn't actually sure what to do with her. It had taken him by surprise, usually finding the general public to be a judgemental nuisance he wasn't prepared to deal with. It was one of the reasons Remus had been on the site in the first place. He spent most of his time cooped up in his room; he just wasn't used to interactions, Alice however, wasn't about to let Remus go, and politely forced herself into his life. Not that Remus ever complained.

Once Remus had got over his fear that strangers who were on the internet were murderers, and that Alice probably wasn't one of them, he told her his name. Her forcefulness to keep talking helped Remus open up, and without her being exactly who she was, exactly when Remus needed it, he wasn't sure he'd have ever opened up to anyone.

The downside to meeting Alice, and the only one Remus could ever think of, was she didn't live in England anymore—which had been the exact reason she was always on the internet. Her husband, Frank, had taken a job in Belgium. He worked in agriculture, mainly crops—Alice had told him—but it was their Flower Carpet displays in Brussels that had caught Frank's eye the most. Alice was a freelance artist who didn't need to be anywhere, in particular, Remus wondered briefly for a while what it would be like to get up and move, not needing to be tied down anywhere.

Alice was the reason Remus tried his hand at writing, doing a course from the confines of his bedroom. She, without question, would provide something—simple in her eyes, but beautiful in his—to accompany his work.

> **S: Although, I can never truly be disappointed when I'm talking to you.  
>  ** **S: Prongs told me I wear a disgusting smile that made him feel nauseous.**
> 
> _R: Least it wasn't your cooking._
> 
> **S: True.**

Without the positive ' _meeting'_ with Alice, Remus wasn't sure he would have ever responded to Sirius. His wariness before the two of them spoke would have forced him to slide the message over, deleting it from existence and his life _forever_. Thankfully, none of that had happened. Thankfully.

> **S: What you up to?**
> 
> _R: Contemplating whether I should shower now and make myself sleepy, or wait another few hours._
> 
> **S: What a life you live.**
> 
> _R: Sirius, I'm such a rockstar. This is like my first night in._
> 
> **S: I want to call bullshit…  
>  ** **S: Sarcasm is hard to read through text.**
> 
> _R: I know, I know. Blah blah, need to hear my voice, blah blah._
> 
> **S: Imagine if you sounded like Barry White.**
> 
> _R: I do not sound like Barry White._
> 
> **S: But imagine it.  
>  ** **S: That cute nose, those impossibly kind eyes, and then this deep, soulful voice that literally doesn't fit with your face.**
> 
> _R: I bet you sound high-pitched._
> 
> **S: The dishonour.**  
>  **S: My voice is sex on legs, I'll have you know.  
>  ** **S: Makes trousers drop.**
> 
> _R: What happens if people aren't wearing trousers._
> 
> **S: Well.**  
>  **S: Now you're just being cruel.  
>  ** **S: Because I have images.**
> 
> _R: I'm going for a shower._
> 
> **S: Of course you are.  
>  ** **S: I'm sure you came into life to torture me.**
> 
> _R: I think you'll find that you barrelled into mine with dog pictures._
> 
> **S: Dog of the day btw.**  
>  **S:**

Remus licked his lips before grinning stupidly, half-catching himself in the bathroom mirror, wondering why it looked so strange. Running his fingers through his hair, bewildered by the sight of his green eyes shining so brightly, Remus realised he had never _been_ this happy. He had never found someone who made him stupidly smile, but wasn't even here. People naturally, at times, made him laugh, but not in the way Sirius did.

No one was quite like Sirius. Which felt rather odd to think, especially with how long he had known him.

> _R: That one looks like a seal.  
>  _ _R: Please don't buy a seal._
> 
> **S: Do you think seals are cuddly?**
> 
> _R: I think I'm going for a shower._
> 
> **S: Wise choice.**

* * *

Sirius wasn't sure what to do with himself when Remus fell asleep. He assumed that was what had happened, especially when Remus had told him he was in bed and couldn't be bothered to dry his hair. Sirius had acted a lot calmer than he actually felt, several images of a wet-haired Remus driving him a little insane.

It could be said that Sirius was a _sexual_ person. He had no preference to who he would find sexual, having endured a significant amount of time in an identity crisis. Currently, as well, this was the most extended amount of time Sirius had been single-single since secondary school—and that was more down to the fact that Sirius didn't want to commit to anyone, so he didn't get involved. He had an understanding with a girl named Marlene, they had fun, but there was nothing more to it; Sirius had also had an agreement with a man named Avery until he turned into a bit of a prick.

But now, he wasn't sure what to do.

Sirius did really like Remus—someone he had never met. He had a connection with him, an understanding he wanted to develop, and Sirius did not want to fuck it up over something silly as he was horny.

Scratching the side of his head, Sirius let out a sigh, looking at his hand against his thigh, arching a brow as he considered things. It wasn't beneath him to give himself the old "low-five", it had just been a while since he had needed too.

For a while, mainly up until the other week, Sirius had been so confused, and a _little_ lost, over his split with Benjy, not knowing where he fits in or what was wrong with him. It had meant that 'sorting himself' hadn't been something he had even considered doing, never mind felt the need too. He wiggled his fingers, slowly closing his eyes as he cleared his mind; he slowly began to slide his palm over his thigh, thinking of Remus' face, his eyes, when his phone buzzed.

His eyes had never flipped open so quickly, his hand moving from himself as he lunged for his phone beside him, hitting the cushion awkwardly causing the phone to hurtle into the air. It was painful to watch, stuck in slow-motion, trapped between reaching for it and the embarrassment crawling up his cheeks.

_It could be Remus. He could know._

It wasn't.

> **James: Fancy playing online? Lils is in bed, can play Battlefield and I can show you up?**
> 
> **Sirius: In your dreams, bro.**

The sound of his PlayStation whirring into life seemed to fill the silence Sirius hated. He despised being alone, always had, always would. Benjy had told him it was because he didn't like being with his thoughts, but who in their right mind was? Sirius wasn't. His mind was overactive, or that's what his Uncle had said. It made new worlds Sirius would hide in when his mother had shouted and shouted; his mind helped plan ludicrous escape plans when his father's hand turned white as it rose in the air.

Sirius liked to be busy, and he enjoyed that Remus never made him feel lonely. When their texts were flowing, Sirius would _imagine_ him here, smirking, leaning against a doorframe commenting on shit. But when Remus was silent, the image of him faded to nothing, and Sirius' home felt bigger than ever.

It had done since Benjy had left, and before that, it had felt the same when James had gone to live with Lily.

He stuck in the earphone, missing the aux hole several times on his controller before it connected and he could hear James whistling.

James cheered. "You took _your_ sweet time."

Sirius let out a hearty laugh, clicking over the menu until he selected the same game. "I am busy a man, Prongs. You're lucky I could free some time to keep you company."

James laughed, and like always, it was infectious. As far back as Sirius could remember, it always had been. Nursery, primary school, secondary, and then even college. Sirius remembered vividly when their form tutor had tried to tell off another student, James' laugh was the only one that made Dumbledore's face twitch with laughter. But then, Sirius wouldn't have been able even to keep a straight face if he were a teacher, lecturing a student on _not_ creating poems about his genitals was comedic gold, and something that still tickled him to this day.

Snorting, James' character came onto the screen as Sirius heard him say. "Oh _sorry_ , Sir Padfoot. I hope you can forgive me for intruding on your evening with _Cemus._ "

"It's _Remus._ Which you very well know."

Selecting his character, Sirius entered the game behind James.

"Sounds the same in my opinion," James jokingly teased. "You going to have your head in the game or am I going to embarrass you because you'll be too busy grinning like a Cheshire Cat."

Sirius smirked, licking his lips slowly as he leaned forward, gaining a better view of his television. "You tease me, but I remember a certain Potter being embarrassingly _cringy_ around a certain Evans."

"I remember a certain _Black_ taunting me about it every chance he got."

Reloading his weapon, Sirius snorted. " _Touché_."

* * *

Sirius had needed to work, and so the text messages had slowed to near silence. Remus tried not to mind, but he had woken feeling quite prickly, and he wanted some distraction. While Remus' father was out, the loneliness had crept over the walls and began to peck at his skin, and Remus couldn't take it. Even if he told himself he could.

Remus hadn't wanted to intrude, and ask what Sirius did, especially when he did it only frequently, and there seemed to be no schedule. The two of them talked all the time, but not always about anything, and currently, Remus preferred that. He wasn't in _too_ deep, still having the chance to put up a wall and go away with his heart only marginally hurt. But, right now, with the house feeling even bigger than usual, Remus really missed Sirius.

Thankfully, the chime coming from his laptop soothed his nerves, his spine relaxing as he sunk into the chair, wiggling the mouse as he saw the ' _Incoming Call'_ screen.

"You rang," Alice said from Remus' laptop, her light-brown pixie cut coming into view before her large, soft eyes. "I mean, obviously you rang, hence why you called me, but, it sounded a far better response than…. _Hi_ Remus."

His lips curled into a grin, pushing the lid of his laptop back as he smiled, leaning back into his chair. "Hi Alice, how is life _down-under_?"

Her eyes narrowed, non-threateningly, her kindness radiating more than her feigned anger. "You can only use that when someone lives in Australia, _not_ Belgium."

" _Technically_ speaking—"

"—Save it, Remus," Alice said cheerily, her knee coming into view as she rested her head against it. She was always so comfortable with him, even though he was sat with a straight back, rolling his sleeves over his hands repeatedly. "Are you okay? Pain again… can't sleep?"

Remus opened his mouth, tilting his head to the side as his eye closed, trying to find the words.

"Oh no, what did the doctor say?"

Swallowing, Remus shook his head. His mind firing a thousand and one phrases, but none of them close to what he _wanted_ to say. "No, I… I haven't seen—"

"Remus!" She whined, her head lifting from her knee, a mother-like-look across her face that cut him far deeper than he wanted. "You shouldn't avoid seeing the doctor. I don't know how many times I have lectured you about this; they _are_ trying to—"

"I need advice about a boy, not about my health!"

Remus' words came out of before he could stop them. It met the screen with a bang, it left his lips with a shout, and from the widening expression on Alice's face, it was something that was unexpected. A sense of dread fell over Remus, a determination to hide his face in his hands and slowly close the lid of the laptop, while also sinking to the floor in a heap. He could stay there until someone found him, remain there dealing with his problems, knees close to his chest until they stopped hurting.

Swallowing, Remus straightened his neck. "I would like if you have the time, some help with how to handle talking to a boy. Who I like. Who likes me… I _think_."

Alice sighed with a soft smile. "You met someone?"

"Technically, _no_. But, also, very much yes."

She nodded, no questions falling from her mouth, just understanding as she remained silent. That was what Remus loved about Alice; she always gave him the time to talk. Alice wasn't like Peter—she wasn't desperate to be involved sometimes, she was pleased for Remus to come to her. He wondered if it was because they had met online and not in some traditional way, but he liked to think it was just how Alice was. Kind-eyed, warm-hearted Alice, who was always there for everyone, even if she was in the middle of something.

"Question _one_ : does he make you smile?"

Remus tried to hide the coy smile that grew at the question, his thoughts moving to Sirius. "Yeah... _he_ does."

Alice nodded, a gleeful smile on her face. "Question _two_ : how did you meet?"

Running a hand up the back of his neck, Remus averted his eyes, his ears suddenly burning. "We… he texted me by accident, sent me this ridiculous photo of a dog. I… did a Remus."

Smirking, Alice nodded. "You can't help yourself."

"I was worried for the animal, at _this_ stage I didn't know his name."

He didn't know why, but his heart was beating loudly. It wasn't in a panic; it was excited, joyful. It beat warmth around his bones and into his muscles, the dull aches he always felt in his knees suddenly faded, and the pain in his spine subsided completely. Just like it did when he spoke to Sirius.

It hadn't occurred to Remus before now that even when he thought of him, Remus felt better. He felt cared for, even if that was ridiculous. Sirius had no idea where he lived or how tall he was; he didn't know the sound of his voice or how he's afraid of crowds. Sirius knew barely anything, and yet, Remus felt all of this for him regardless.

Although, he wasn't entirely sure what ' _all of this'_ was, exactly.

Alice shuffled herself before moving her laptop closer, a part of her body fading from view as her chin came to rest on her palm. "Okay, well tell me about him, Remus. I'm _here_ for you."

* * *

 

> **S: I'm back.**  
>  S: I hate work. I do it like once a month if that. And I still hate it. Which, I know, boo-hoo Sirius. But. I hate it.  
>  **S: It has also been a while now, so I feel I can say with confidence I didn't poison anyone.**  
>  **S: So now, SURELY I can say I can cook.  
>  ** **S: I can right?**
> 
> _R: I would say with confidence you can. I would prefer a few more occasions before I taste any of your food though. To be sure.  
>  _ _R: But bravo, I knew you wouldn't murder... tonight._
> 
> **S: Your belief in me, Moony, means more than you know.  
>  S: If I cooked for you, I would deffo make sure I didn't poison you. I like having you around.**
> 
> _R: And you don't like having your friend around?_
> 
> **S: Can give or take.**  
>  S: Now I sound murdery.  
>  **S: Still think I could be a murderer?**
> 
> _R: Unfortunately, one can never be too sure on murder. For all, I know you'd go off in revenge and stab someone for hurting someone you love. Could happen.  
>  _
> 
> **S: Probably would too.**  
>  **S: I'm not known for rash thinking.  
>  ** **S: How has your day been?**

Sirius wanted to ask if Remus missed him _just_ as Sirius missed him when he fell asleep. But it felt too soon.

When he thought about it, which Sirius often did, he realised how quickly all of this had progressed and how he should really hold back more of himself than he was. He acted as though he had been with Remus for ages, had seen him, heard his voice, and touched his skin. But none of those things had happened... yet.

Although, Sirius hoped one day he could change that.

> _R: Not bad, spoke to my friend Alice.  
>  _ _R: She lives in Belgium._
> 
> **S: Oo, I think I have family there.**
> 
> _R: You either do, or you don't…_
> 
> **S: One thing you will learn, my family is scattered everywhere.  
>  ** **S: Like vermin.**
> 
> _R: What a lovely sentiment._
> 
> **S: It's rather kind for how I usually talk about them.**
> 
> _R: Somehow, that doesn't surprise me._

Sirius fell back into his sofa, stretching out his legs as he sighed. He caught a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the television, seeing the 'daft' grin James always talked about—the same one Regulus had harped on about most of the shift.

Not that he could tell his brother why he looked cheerful, especially when their mother hadn't died, and he had technically been _forced_ to work in their restaurant. He didn't know why he had even been considered for the shift; he was disowned from the family after all. Which, as far as Sirius was concerned, had involved everything to do with the Black name. Apparently, Regulus had found a loophole—something only Regulus could do, and get away with.

Sirius tried not to mind. He barely saw Regulus these days and felt it was his only chance. He also had never been able to say no to his younger brother, guilt living on his shoulders since the night Sirius left home, catching Regulus' eyes in the upstairs window.

> _R: I have no one other than my dad.  
>  _ _R: Far easier to keep track of._
> 
> **S: You murder the rest?**
> 
> _R: Obviously._  
>  _R: Ate them all.  
>  _ _R: Less chance of being caught._

Regulus hadn't brought up the _family_ the entire shift, the two of them working side-by-side in the bar talking about anything but that topic. The lights above them had occasionally caught the badge on his brother's chest: _Manager_. A position Sirius' father had told him he would have when he finished school, one that Sirius had rebelled against at every chance. He didn't care for tradition, not when all he wanted to do was draw, and when he felt the family's morals didn't align with his.

Sirius had been forced to take art therapy when he was ten. His mother, an offensive woman who only spoke to him in a shouting manner, had assumed he was simply broken and ordered him to go. He had been 'made' to go until he was disowned, his parents assuming his bad behaviour could be rectified by medication and talking about his issues. Neither of them realised his issues were directly with them. They didn't truly care, but with him going, they had an excuse to say that Sirius needed 'extra' help to get through the day, painting the heir of the Black Family as something he wasn't.

While Sirius hadn't wanted to attend at first, he ultimately came around to the idea, enjoying the peace and the chance to think. It helped that Filius Flitwick had faced scrutiny and expectations forced upon him too, and his charm, Sirius had always quite liked his charm. It took until he was thirteen for Sirius to really break down. Sirius came to the session in a flood of tears and sobs following a disastrous conversation with his father. Filius sat him down, telling him there was nothing wrong with being overwhelmed by the expectations forced upon him, and that he was here for him. After that, Sirius let the walls come down, drawing and opening up more than ever, it worked until he was banned from ever going to Filius again.  

> **S: You thought this through, I like it.  
>  S: Do you do it on a full moon?**
> 
> _R: The hurrier I go the behinder I get.  
>  R: And no, how cliche of you._
> 
> **S: I feel you quoted something there before.**  
>  **S:**

Having not seen Filius in a while, Sirius let his mind wander to him. He wondered if he had been okay when his mother had charged in there and dragged Sirius out; Sirius hoped Filius career was still intact, and that his mother hadn't enacted her anger at him like she had said she would. It didn't matter how much Sirius professed that his therapist had done nothing but let him talk, Sirius' mother was adamant his head had been filled with lies, and that was the reason for his behaviour.

It had nothing to do with her, and how cold she was. It had nothing to do with the people that entered Grimmauld Place, looking him up and down because Sirius was never dressed as impeccably as he should or presented himself like a member of the Black Family needed to.

> **S: I've decided, I've had enough of here today, I think you should politely invite me to come to yours.**  
>  **S: I am an excellent fort-builder.  
>  ** **S: Actually, where is yours?**
> 
> _R: A shire._
> 
> **S: Do any Hobbits live there?**
> 
> _R: Possibly, but I think he'd rather be called Mr Lupin.  
>  _ _R: I'm also impressed you know what I'm talking about._
> 
> **S: Did you make a joke, Remus?  
>  ** **S: I'm no fool, Remus.**
> 
> _R: I did._
> 
> **S: I'm proud.**
> 
> _R: I'm a little proud too._
> 
> **S: I'm from London.**
> 
> _R: I live in Derbyshire._
> 
> **S: Not too far then.**
> 
> _R: No. I guess not. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius hadn't wanted to come out and ' _paint the town Potter_ ', but he had felt like he ought to. The downside to finding someone new in his life, Sirius had begun to ignore James—who did not _like_ to be ignored. He would whine, he would pout, and seemingly even wind Lily up with his complaints to the point she had to ring Sirius just to beg him to reply.

He considered telling Lily to put James on the phone, but thought it would be far quicker if he just replied with a GIF and be done with it. He was wrong, something Sirius often was. He was locked in a GIF battle with his best friend for several hours.

The only saving grace, Remus was far more understanding than someone should be. Sirius had already told himself he'd never let go of Remus for love or money—or more like, motorbikes and hair products.

Thankfully, when James began planning 'the night out of all nights', he had given Sirius permission—not that Sirius ever needed it—to bring ' _Remus'_ along. Even Lily had snorted, but instead of saying anything, Sirius had smirked as he stood in the doorway.

It turned out James' wild night had meant the local pub. There was nothing wrong with his local, a lot of their former friends went there, and it was always lively. But it wasn't what Sirius had expected, and his face must have shown it as James began to explain why. Something Sirius cared even less about than what colour shirt went with James' shoes.

While the town was a lot larger than the end of James' street, James didn't want to go anywhere where music could drown him out. Sirius had stared at him obnoxiously at that part, mainly because the James he knew before Lily had entered his life could always be found crawling the corners of a rave. James clearly seemed to forget those times, but Sirius never would—they were saved in the back of his brain, always able to be pulled to the front to ease him. If Sirius had any shame—which he didn't—he knew James would do the same in return.

> **S: An accurate representation of me currently.**  
>  **S:**
> 
> _R: I like your hat.  
>  _ _R: You look very smart._
> 
> **S: Well, I do know how to dress up.  
>  ** **S: Also, if I am slow at responding, blame Prongs.**
> 
> _R: I don't mind if you'd rather just text tomorrow, I want you to have a good night with your friend._

It wasn't often that Sirius considered that Remus might not be as into texting him as he thought, but this was one of them.

Usually, when the two of them were in their own bubble, Remus seemed to enjoy texting him, just as much as Sirius liked receiving texts from him. Even when Sirius was mindful of not being 'to full-on' Remus seemed to want to text back, only ever not replying when he was at an appointment of some kind or asleep.

Sirius had been about to ask the question that wouldn't leave his brain as he walked down James' street, but Remus texted, as though he had sensed some disruption in his mood.

> _R: I do *want* to text you though. I just don't want to be a burden._
> 
> **S: Nah.  
>  ** **S: I want to text you.  
>  ** **S: Unless you want a night of from me ;)**

It was as close as Sirius would get to what he wanted to ask. He couldn't just ask if Remus would instead prefer to delete his number than reply to him—like Sirius had initially wanted to—or 'are you into me enough to want to talk as much as we do'. In truth, they both sounded desperate, which was something Sirius never wanted to be.

He wasn't Regulus.

Sirius had only been half-paying attention to his surroundings when he followed James into the pub, the door almost swinging back to hit him, but Sirius had quick reflexes. His nose, at that minute, greatly appreciated them.

> _R: I don't want you to ignore people because of me, Sirius._
> 
> **S: Oo, using my name. Now I know you're being serious.  
>  ** **S: A door almost just hit me in the face, that's how dedicated I am to texting you.**
> 
> _R: Cute._ _And, by the way, I would very much like to text you though, just so you know._
> 
> **S: But would you let a door hit you in the face? That's the true question.**
> 
> _R: Unlikely, I'd have to go somewhere to allow a door to hit me in the face. I'm a bit of a "home body", unless it's a coffee shop. I have a bit of a love for coffee._
> 
> **S: The taste of coffee is always a weird one, I need it syrup'd. Like caramel or something**
> 
> _R: Hold on a second, I need to ask, do you make that pun to everyone or am I special?  
>  _ _R: I'd like to think I'm special._

Sirius desperately wanted to tell Remus he was special, more because he was. He had never been so anxious in between text messages; Sirius had never been desperate for time to pass when Remus slept so they could talk again. Before Remus, Sirius hadn't really cared if someone texted him or not—well, except his friends. He never let his friends ignore him, but Sirius had never been that bothered if Benjy replied or not. He assumed that was another red flag he had conveniently not noticed at the time.

> _R: I'm very sirius about being special._
> 
> **S: Firstly, ofc you're special.**  
>  **S: Secondly, can hardly blame you for wanting to text me, I am hilarious.**  
>  **S: Thirdly…**  
>  **S:**
> 
> _R: Wow.  
>  _ _R: Are you trying to kill me.  
>  _ _R: I knew you were a murderer._

Sirius had been set to reply, to say something witty like, ' _well they do say if looks could kill_ ', but James' elbow rudely interrupted, forcing Sirius to look up just in time to see someone he'd sooner not have.

"Oh look, Pads," James said with a pompous smirk. "It's Rabastian the _bastard_...ian."

Rolling his eyes, Rabastian leaned against the bar, looking the two of them up and down as though they were caked in shit—a look Sirius wanted to knock off his face. "Well _done_ , Potter. You think of that yourself?"

James scrunched his face up, looking at Rabastian questioningly. "Well yeah, _obviously_."

Sometimes, Sirius wished he could add a zip to James' mouth and stop him from making a fool out of himself. But then, sometimes, it was far too comical to stop—he wasn't _quite_ sure if this was one of those moments or not.

"Where's your minder, Potter?"

Sirius instinctively grasped James' elbow. Anyone could say a thing about him, and possibly even Sirius in James' opinion, but no one could say a bad word about Lily. "Where's your brother, Lestrange? Busy eating babies with my evil, soulless cousin?"

"Sometimes, Black, you're kinda funny—and then I remember that you're disowned and I just feel sorry for you."

It was James' turn to pull Sirius back that time, and he allowed him. Sirius turned on the spot, putting his back towards the sniggering idiot as he walked on autopilot, sinking down into a booth as Sirius continued to narrow his eyes at Rabastian.

Sirius wasn't bothered about the situation with his family; he didn't miss them a single bit. They were hot-headed _racists_ who spouted hatred about same-sex relationships, and anything else was a sin. They didn't understand how much Sirius had been wrestling with himself, how at first he believed there had been something wrong with him until he opened up to James—someone Sirius had been banned from being friends with because of his skin colour.

He always assumed his first rebellion was not going to church, but Sirius realised on reflection it was remaining friends with James. 

> **S: No, I like you. Killing you would mean I don't like you.  
>  ** **S: I'd happily kill a lot of people, but never you.**
> 
> _R: Should I be concerned that you want a lot of people dead, or should I breeze past it?_
> 
> **S: Breeze past it for now, when we finally hear one another's voice, I'll explain it all to you.  
>  ** **S: I'm very pro-control the narrative.  
>  ** **S: Don't want you to think I'm a lunatic.**
> 
> _R: I don't think I'd ever think you were a lunatic, a murder maybe. But never a lunatic. And before you reply and say you want me alive, we may have to talk about impromptu photos like that; my heart rate spiked so high my Fitbit almost broke._
> 
> **S: I am smiling so hard that you wear a fitbit.**

He was.

It was a ridiculous grin, one he knew lit up his face and made his mouth hurt. Sirius could feel himself squirming as he waited for the three bubbles, the ones that bobbed at the bottom of his screen informing Sirius that Remus was replying.

"You're doing that thing again?" James said in a confused tone, sliding in beside Sirius as he placed his drink down.

Cocking his eyebrow, his mouth slowly returning to its normal state, but yet James continued to stare.

"You like this guy, don't you?"

Sirius shrugged, brushing his hair behind his ear as he grabbed his drink from the table, taking a purposeful sip.

James pushed his glasses up his nose, leaning back against the booth as he folded his arms over his chest. "I'm happy for you, underneath all of this overly cool and ridiculously handsome face."

Sirius smirked as he just nodded, placing his glass back down on the peeling mat. "Means a lot that you'd hide your pridefulness from me, Prongs. You know how emotions make me uncomfortable."

"That I do, _brother_. That I do."

> _R: I like seeing how high my heart rate gets.  
>  _ _R: I also like being lectured about how much I eat and how much I don't sleep.  
>  _ _R: It's like having a mother on my arm._
> 
> **S: I'll pass, I didn't like my mother being in the same house as me, never mind wearing her on my wrist.**

James brushed against his arm, and Sirius slowly raised his head to find James trying to look while also pretending he wasn't. Swallowing, Sirius gave him a purposeful stare as James tried to act nonchalant, even throwing a cough in there, but Sirius wasn't buying it.

"Tell him I said... hi."

Sirius locked the screen as James pouted. "You want me to say hi? Just hi."

James itched the back of his head, visibly thinking before he met Sirius' gave again. "Tell him this, alright…" 

> _R: I'm forced to keep mine on._
> 
> **S: Prongs would like me to tell you, his name is James and if you want to play online with us one night, you can do.**  
>  **S: He thinks we are fourteen.**  
>  **S: My words not his, he wanted me to make a point of saying that.**  
>  **S: You can now see what I'm dealing with.  
>  ** **S: KSAIBUFKM KLAsjdh\\].mla**
> 
> _R: James try to wrestle the phone out of your hand?_
> 
> **S: How could you tell?**
> 
> _R: As helpful as google translate can be, I doubt that's a language anywhere._  
>  _R: I feel like I'm intruding on your 'bro-night' as you called it, you should be having fun. One of us should be.  
>  _ _R: You'll quickly learn my life is a cross between boring and pitiful._
> 
> **S: I very much doubt that.  
>  ** **S: Actually, I would go as far to say it's slander.**
> 
> _R: Oh, Sirius. I love how optimistic you are. Wish I could bottle you up and have you with me always._

* * *

Remus had no idea how that came out, but he knew he couldn't take it back.

It was already there, staring at him from his screen, and he desperately wanted to scream out in annoyance that he had just done that. Usually, he was much more careful; more often than not, he thought about what he was going to say a good three or four times. Did it make him the quickest replier? No. But he was cautious, and he didn't let on too much.

Now… well, he had blown that out of the water.

Sirius would probably delete his number and block him for good measure; he'd be laughing in the pub at how ridiculous Remus was being. 'He's obsessed with me', he'd likely say, and Remus would be none the wiser. The worst of it all, wasn't the ridicule he was probably subjected to behind his back, but more than Remus wasn't sure his cheeks would ever return to their sickly colour, and he was adamant his heart rate—that was already impossibly high—would ever drop below 100. People would know something was wrong, and by people, Remus meant his father.

If he had to endure another conversation about 'safe-online-sex' which, unbeknown to all, was a thing according to his elderly father, Remus would likely commit murder.

Remus collapsed in a heap on the bed, rolling over, so his face was down in the pillow, the scent of wash powder and his shampoo meeting his nose. He thought about screaming, or letting out a shrill cry that no one but he would hear, and then he thought of pulling the sim card out and pretending Sirius never existed.

Which he realised, very quickly—compared to last time—was entirely irrational.

> **S: You only have to ask, Remus. I'd bottle up as much of me as you want, I'm all yours.**  
>  **S: I mean…  
>  ** **S: It's quite nice weather, isn't it?**
> 
> _R: You're smooth.  
>  _ _R: Impossibly smooth. Are you even real?_

Grasping his chest, Remus tried to still his racing heart. He wasn't 100% sure that Sirius was asking him if he wanted him or not—because if he did, fuck yeah did Remus want him. If he wasn't and Remus answered, then he'd look like a fucking idiot. Which Remus already felt like. He didn't need Sirius to think he was one.

He ran his sweaty palms down his legs, trying to close his eyes and not stare at his phone. Remus focused on his inhale and his out-hale, listening to the birds on the tree branch outside, listening to the cars out on the street whizz by. He tried to listen to everything in the world, and just not his phone.

Because he had put it on loud.

Remus had hated his message tone more than he hated any other noise. It had irked him more than nails on a chalkboard, and it irritated him more than a horn. But, he would also feel incredibly irritable and annoyed if he missed one of Sirius' texts—so that outweighed his hatred.

It was only when Remus went to find how to turn it off silent than he noticed he had thirty other tones he could change it too, there were few times when Remus felt like a prize idiot, and this was one of them.

> **S: Y'know I can take another picture... if you'd like.  
>  ** **S: One that wouldn't spark murder, but instead bring truth.  
>  ** **S: One that would quell curiosity and soothe your concerns over my validity.**
> 
> _R: I can only have one photo as my wallpaper, so I'll be okay with the latest._

Fuck he wanted to punch himself.

Would it hurt the same, if Remus punched himself? There'd be no point if it didn't, if the pain was subjectively less because Remus was aware of it coming, there was a likely chance he wouldn't learn from it. Instead, he continued to say the first thing that came to his mind.

What was worse, Remus read it before clicking send. He could see the words—how dangerously truthful they were—before he clicked send. Yet, he still sent it. He watched it zoom across the bar, sending it out into the world, unable to be cleansed from Sirius' eyes.

> **S: I'm your wallpaper?**

" _You're an idiot, Lupin_ ," Remus mumbled to himself, pacing the available space on his floor. He narrowly avoided a jumper and a pair of scrunched up jeans, needing and wanting to open pace carpet, not clothed covered ground.

It had been a game when he was little, something of an oddity—or so his mother said. Remus couldn't stand on the cracks of the pavement, he would be holding his mother's hand, and he would jump and lunge to avoid doing so. He had never even heard the saying, ' _step on a crack and break your mother's back_ ' until school, but it cemented something in Remus mind after that. From then, he never stepped on something in his path—whether that be a leaf or an item of clothing on his bedroom floor.

Remus only discovered a year or two ago that he had a _compulsive_ disorder, something the medication he was already on for his anxiety and his hatred of his scars. He had wanted to remind the pink-faced doctor that it was normal for someone young to hate the scars littered over his knees and to hate the chronic pain he suffered. He didn't though, Remus had bowed his head as he took the prescription, barely making eye contact with them or his father.

> _R: Is that too much?_  
>  _R: It was nothing before.  
>  _ _R: Blank I mean.  
>  _ _R: I just, kind of liked the picture._

He had already said too much, so Remus thought what the fuck. He could have held back more, or he could ride the wave and see what happened.

It was uncharacteristically un-Remus, but then so had replying to Sirius in the first place and sharing his name. Something about Sirius made Remus want to be a bit more daring, be a bit braver and step out of his comfort zone.

Remus also felt safe with him, even more so when he replied.

> **S: Nah.  
>  ** **S: I like it.**

Thank the heavens and all they were.

Remus swallowed the lump that had seemed to grow in the midst of his panic, tracing the tip of his tongue over his lips as he stared at his phone.

> _R: You do?_
> 
> **S: Hell yeah. I'm the phone background for a cute guy? Its my dream.**  
>  **S: Well, that's a lie actually.**  
>  **S: I guess the only background I want to be is yours.  
>  ** **S: So, there's that.  
>  ** **S: Did you know that Hozier has brought out a new song.**

Remus did know that. In fact, he had been playing ' _Nina Cried Power'_ for the last hour on repeat, he was sure even Lyall knew the words to it at this point. Biting down on the inside of his mouth, Remus hovered his thumbs over the screen, a ridiculous grin on his face that never seemed to vanish whenever he was texting Sirius.

A grin he had unlikely ever had before if he was honest.

> _R: You have odd dreams, but I am very happy to make them come true._
> 
> **S: I'm an odd guy.**
> 
> _R: I kind of like it though, if you don't mind me saying._
> 
> **S: Course I don't. I kinda like you how you are too.  
>  ** **S: Also, because of that, I need one of you for mine.  
>  ** **S: One that you're happy with, I don't want to make you uncomfortable.**

If Remus hadn't already begun to fall for Sirius no-surname, he had unmistakably fallen for him at that last text.

> _R: Pick one from my Instagram, it's the only social media I have other than Tumblr. There's not many, but there's some you may like its remuslupin  
>  _ _R: Lupin is my surname. By the way._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this one is a little shorter, but I didn't want to fill things in and prolong the inevitable.  
> Hope you enjoy (:

Sirius had stalked Remus.

He had gone into the furthest depths, scrolled further than any man before him, and Sirius had fucking loved it. There were so many pictures, much more than Sirius had expected. Most were without Remus even in them, including ones of landscapes, both green and various other colours, and an assortment of different flowers in bloom. As he scrolled a little further, he came across a series of what appeared to be food. Sirius could recognise a few plates, but some still remained a mystery—not even the descriptions providing much help. 

Then, thankfully, every now and again, in pockets of the other photos were ones of Remus himself. It was those that made Sirius double-tap, and while any sane person would have stopped at the most recent ones, Sirius wasn't a sane person. No, he showed his appreciation as much as he could, tapping away as the years zoomed by, and his thumb began to tire.

Remus may have been able to guess Sirius had done a 'full' inspection from the array of liked pictures, but then, he could have also been flattered. Sirius knew he would have been. It wasn't until Remus texted did Sirius begin to blush, not that Sirius regretted it, not for a single second.

> _R: Wow.  
>  _ _R: You liked my first ever picture._
> 
> **S: Your haircut was fantastic.  
>  ** **S: Looks like you have a lot of hair.**
> 
> _R: Are you… hitting on me, Sirius._
> 
> **S: Always.  
>  ** **S: Also do you have the uniform still?**
> 
> _R: … Maybe._
> 
> **S: Interesting**
> 
> _R: Yours is something else.  
>  R: You love mirror pictures don't you?_
> 
> **S: Are you teasing me, Mr Lupin?**
> 
> _R: Well, Mr Black, maybe I am.  
>  R: Mr Lupin would also request that Sirius Black get some glass cleaner before he partakes in a photoshoot again.  
>  R: Purely for the person looking at the phones, of course._
> 
> **S: Perv.**
> 
> _R: I prefer the term, 'admirer'._
> 
> **S: I'd let you admire me anytime.**

Sirius sprawled along his bed, the voice of Freddie Mercury in the background, and he was sure he had never been happier. There had been moments close to this one, where he felt like he was full of sunshine and every sigh that left his lips was content, but none of them were quite as strong as this. This feeling, the one Remus gave him, it was like nothing else.

And it scared the _fucking_ shit out of him.

To the point, he turned the music off, even before Freddie had really got into the song. Sirius craved silence, for just a moment, before he slid open his phone. 

He considered texting Remus, just sending something silly and without meaning, but his heart was thumping in his throat, and his brain had stopped working. Which was precisely the reason why Sirius had needed to call James.

"999, what's _your_ emergency?"

Sirius didn't even laugh—not like he did _every_ single time he heard James answer the phone in that way. He remained silent, picking at a piece of skin on his lip. 

"Yo, Pads?"

He tore the skin from his lip, hating the sting, but still felt he deserved it for allowing his thoughts to unravel. "Prongs, what if Remus meets me and thinks I'm fucked in the head?"

James sighed so heavy, it almost made Sirius pull the phone away from his ear. "Oh, so we're skipping the hi and going straight into meltdown. Cool. Um, wanna _slow_ things down and give me some context?"

"Not _particularly_."

The living room door in James' home closed, and Sirius assumed he had stepped out. He knew the sound so well, from nights spent keeping James up as they played FIFA; from closing the door behind him for dramatic effect when he had said something outrageous. Sirius knew the door, he knew everything about the door, and he knew everything about James, but he knew nothing about Remus, _not_ really.

"So, let me break down what I know. One minute, you're _head-over-heels,_ can't stop grinning, want to make a shrine of this man, and in the next, _mentally-unstable_ , calling me out of the blue, and being outstandingly thick?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes, rolling onto his stomach. "Interesting you'd call _me_ thick when you're the one who got their head stuck in a fence."

"You dared me, Pads. Let's not all forget that part, Lils still teases me about it now."

Sighing, Sirius tried to focus on breathing as regularly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was have a panic attack, the last one still haunting him even if he was far away from his childhood home—and hopefully, just as far, if not further, away from his mother.

"I'm scared," Sirius admitted feebly.

Because even if his heart was desperately attempting to launch out of his chest; even if he began to feel sweat forming on his spine. He knew he needed to be rational and honest; whatever being rational and honest was like.

Tapping his nail against his leg, Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. "I know things with—I know, I've been with people before, but, Prongs, this _feels_ different."

"Look, be honest with me; what are you really anxious about?"

Sirius wanted to say _everything_. Because in truth, it _was_ everything. Things had gone from 0 to 100 especially fucking quick, and while he knew he didn't want things to slow down, Sirius also wasn't sure how much more he could get invested. Not without a voice, or a video; something more he could cling onto, needing Remus to be as into this as Sirius was. 

The array of emotions were getting out of hand, and while there were so many things he couldn't keep track of, his fear, his apparent destiny to have his heart broken. Sirius wasn't even sure he could pick just one, so he didn't. Instead, he deflected, choosing the easiest to explain over the truth.

Tapping his fingers against his phone, Sirius let out a deep sigh. "What if he meets me, and thinks, ' _oh, he's marginally alright'_ , and then I speak Prongs. I let spoken word take over, and he's like, ' _abort_ '."

"Well... then _he's_ a prick."

Sirius wanted to say that wasn't helpful, but he refrained. "It's like _Tinder_ , but in person, and instead of swiping right, Remus could... just get back on the bus, or in the car, or on a train he doesn't even want, and leave. I don't _like_ Tinder, Prongs!"

James clicked his tongue against his teeth, a noise that both aggravated Sirius and made him worry because it meant he was thinking, and a _thinking-James_ was not a James Sirius liked all that much.

"I think you're worrying about being alone."

Sirius bit back saying, ' _Of course, I fucking am_ ', swallowing it as he felt the rage bubble inside of him. "Well, I won't deny the thought has crossed my mind a few times." _Try a dozen_ , the voice in his head—Sirius usually ignored—said.

"And?" James said from the other end, and all Sirius did was stare blankly out of his window, finding nothing else to retort. " _Pads_ , you're the only fucker I know that would run after that damn bus and force the driver to open the door. And, I think the only way Remus would get back on it, is to see you do that."

He felt the heat rise up his face, a stupid grin forming where a worried, teeth-gnawing expression had once been. "You think?"

"Sirius, I don't know him—fuck, I've not even spoken to him—but anyone, other than me, who can make you grin like an idiot, is not someone who walks away. They're just not." Running his hand through his hair, Sirius took in a deep breath. "Now, get off the phone with me, and text him back."

Grinning, Sirius found he nodded—even though James couldn't see him. "Alright."

"Alright."

Sirius stared down at his phone, watching as the faded black screen of an ended call vanished and his home screen met his eyes. Staring up at him, smiling coyly amongst a multi-coloured carpet, dressed in a leather jacket and black jeans, was Remus Lupin.

> **S: FYI, I stole a pic, and now you're looking up at me.**
> 
> _R: Creepy.  
>  _ _R: But alrighty_
> 
> **S: I forgot! I'm so shit.**
> 
> _R: Unlikely, but what?_
> 
> **S:  
>  S: Random dog of the day.**
> 
> _R: He is a cool dude._
> 
> **S: Right?**
> 
> _R: Look at his shades! Okay, he's for sure a winner._
> 
> Sirius smirked to himself, typing out, ' _You're a winner_ ' and then deleting it.
> 
> **S: So, what does a man have to do to hear your voice?**
> 
> _R: Well, the criteria for it is pretty long, are you sure you're up to the challenge?_
> 
> **S: Always.**

* * *

Well, _fuck_.

Remus threw his head back as he felt his father's eyes burn into him. Once again, he had trapped himself in a situation he knew he wouldn't be able to get out of. He did this to himself more times than he could count, and Remus was becoming slightly sick of it.

For once, he didn't plan out every single thing he was going to say, and because he didn't rehearse, and went with _'the flow_ ' as Alice put it, now Remus needed to create a challenge that Sirius would undoubtedly complete. Because Sirius was someone who thrived on challenges, Remus was sure—because Sirius was the complete opposite of him.

"Y'alright there, son?"

Remus clenched his hand behind the cushion, nails digging half-moons into his palm as he tried to calm himself, because screaming, 'No, Dad, I'm fucking not', would help no one.

"Um, I'm just, really loving this antique programme."

Lyall, being Lyall, arched his brow. "Now I know you're lying, what's happened? Is it ya friend Pie?"

"Pete, _Dad_. Why the fuc—"

"— _Language_ —"

"—k would my friend be called ' _Pie_ '?"

Lyall, again being Lyall, shrugged. "You kids have nicknames I'll _never_ understand."

Remus wanted to respond that Remus was a pretty stupid name, but Remus didn't want to bring that up.

"I'm fine, Dad, just—" having a breakdown over a boy I like, "—saw something online, I'm going to go to my room."

He didn't give his father any chance to argue, standing up and hurrying from the room as if it was on fire, and Remus didn't slow his movements until he reached his bedroom, staring down at the still-lit phone.

Backing out of the text, Remus went back to Sirius' Instagram. He stared at the icon, the grinning, care-free man with his wild hair and even larger sunglasses. Then he scrolled, going past boomerangs, and artsy black and white photos, and Remus landed at the one that had caught his eyes. 

Sirius wasn't even looking at the camera; he was focused on the paper spread out in front of him, a pencil in hand as he sketched something out of view of the photo. Remus felt Sirius looked peaceful, so lost in his own world that all the outlandishness he usually showed in his picture, was dormant, and he was happily existing, just content in that moment. 

It was Remus' favourite, and while he wanted to say that, he wasn't sure he could. Sirius was expected a challenge, some sort of competition to win a voice-call, when in reality, Remus just wanted a minute to think. 

Remus hated himself for what he began to type, and even as he clicked send, he knew he was being a coward. 

> _R: First, you have to put the leaf of an elm tree under your tongue for a full month._

He shook his head, thinking up the next part because even if he was just toying with Sirius, he realised how fucking good this test could turn out to be. Remus wasn't pulling out normal things for this challenge; he had gone deep into the nerd within and pulled out some pretty batshit things. Things, Remus wouldn't be able to list ever again, if not for the fact it was written permanently in front of him. 

If Sirius still remained, then what else could Remus even be scared of? Nothing, or so he hoped. 

> _R: Then you have to put said leaf in a vial, and allow the full moon's rays shine down on it._

Thankfully, for Remus, he had watched a lot of fantasy films and read even more books. He had, at least, various ideas up his sleeve to create a near impossible challenge that would… Well, Remus didn't know _what_. All he knew for sure was that he did want to speak to Sirius, he really did. Remus wanted to put a voice to the face as much as Sirius did, and it wasn't just fear that stopped him, but rather _everything_ else.

Remus had issues, long-standing ones that wouldn't go away just because he found someone else. And, while selfishly he wanted to keep Sirius around, he also didn't want to full surrender all of himself and find Sirius didn't want to stay. Because that would sting, hurt, ache—even worse than his joints often did.

Then there was the risk of getting hurt, even though the two of them had never met, everything felt more real between them than it had done with anyone else Remus had been with—even if that list was small. Sirius seemed to get him, seemed to like his funny, dry humour and his face. Sirius didn't ask too much, even if he wanted to, he _respected_ Remus, waited patiently for whatever scraps Remus would throw his way, and still had stayed.

Had still _wanted_ to text him every morning, first thing when he woke up, and the last thing before he closed his eyes.

Remus had never _been_ wanted like this, had never had someone who wished to talk to him as much as Sirius did. He wasn't sure what he would do if he lost it—if he _lost_ Sirius.

> _R: Then, with the elm leaf in the vial, you would need to mix it with my favourite drink—Pepsi Max—and keep it out of the sunlight until the next electrical storm._

Remus braced, waiting for either Sirius to call him out or never to reply again, but neither came. Neither happened.

> **S: Consider it done.**

He grinned.

Wide, proud, and unafraid. Remus grinned, unlike anything he had ever done before—to the point it hurt.

> _R: You're a weird man._
> 
> **S: Why?  
>  ** **S: What have you heard?**
> 
> _R: I expected you to run in the other direction, that was… a lot._
> 
> **S: Seems pretty fair to me.**
> 
> _R: No it isn't._
> 
> **S: No, it isn't. BUT, Remus, if that's what needed to be done to make you feel comfortable to talk to me on the phone, I'll do it. I'd do anything you want me to.  
>  ** **S: I just want you to *want* to talk to me.**

This was ludicrous, all of it. Remus had a handsome man, wanting to do anything he could to make him comfortable, and Remus hadn't called him. He hadn't pressed Sirius' number so hard the phone had cracked, even if he desperately wanted to; Remus also hadn't thrown himself off the metaphorical cliff Remus was teetering on, all out of fear Sirius would leave.

Even if Sirius were proving time and time again, he wouldn't.

And likely, the same as Remus, Sirius was just as scared, because this was all laughable. Two random people, by accident, beginning to like one another after a dog picture was randomly sent, causing a series of events that others would find odd.

Remus moved across his bedroom, finding his legs wobbled as he did, and he perched on the end of his bed, hearing the springs creak as he did. He wiped his hand down his leg, swapping his phone to the other before repeating it with the other hand, and then he began to type.

> _R: Okay.  
>  _ _R: Do it._
> 
> **S: You sure?  
>  ** **S: Remus, I don't want to pressure you.**
> 
> _R: It's fine, honest.  
>  _ _R: Call._

It took an age, Remus was sure. He felt sick and hot; cold and also nervous. It was so much all at once, and then nothing at all. It was a hurricane of emotions that circled and circled, leaving him breathless in the wake of destruction he himself had caused.

But, it was _only_ fear.

And Remus wasn't scared of falling and not being caught, because he suspected—even without knowing all that much about Sirius—that he would never let him fall.

His phone vibrated, his thumb moving over to press the button, and just as he did, everything silenced. Remus felt his heart stop, the clock on the wall stilling, and even the birds refrained from chirping. There was nothing as he lifted the phone to his ear, somewhat missing the steady thump of his own heart.

"Remus? _You… um,_ there?"

Sirius had a silky voice, one that _would_ drop people's trousers _just_ as Sirius said they would. He sounded nervous, which Remus suspected was to be expected, because even though he had told Sirius that it was okay to call, Remus still felt nervous himself, as though all of this could unravel at any second.

Thankfully, it didn't.

Even as a lump had formed in his throat, and even if palms had become _slick_ with perspiration.

Clearing his throat, Remus let out a short breath. "Um… _Hi, um, I'm here_?"

He heard the relief as Sirius' sighed, one Remus himself mirrored as he let his free hand fall to his lap comfortably.

"Hi."

Smiling, Remus bit down on his lip. "Hi, _Sirius_."

"Hi, Remus."

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m so sorry for the slow update, I had a lot going on. Been writing an original, and also trying to finish a couple of projects, but I loved writing this update so hoping to keep up with them more now.

It was tense, and he wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though his life hung in the balance of how this conversation would go, no lives would be saved by hearing Remus' voice, but yet, Sirius felt this was one of the most important moments of his life. It also didn't say much for the other moments.

Sighing in completeness, and apprehension, Sirius ran his hand over his thigh, not sure what to say other than:

" _Hi…_ "

He had never been one for nervousness, having never been brought up to feel such a thing—in Sirius' defence, he had never been raised to have many feelings at all—and yet, right now, Sirius had never wanted something to go so right in his life. He heard James' voice in the back of his head, mocking him for always being a little honest, a little bit too cocky, and somehow sticking his foot in it, without even knowing much to have his foot involved in the first place.

Sirius didn't want to cock this up.

Mess up having someone who seemed to make him laugh so easily, who put up with him sending pictures of dogs.

Attempting to ignore the sweat building quicker and quicker on his palms, desperate not to drop the phone to the floor—knowing it was a sure way to end the conversation—he tried to focus on something else. It didn't work.

Sirius could feel his pulse quickening under his skin, blood running, coursing as he waited for a noise, a response from the man he had been desperate to speak to.

And then, Remus chuckled.

It was all light, an airy. His laugh filled the cracks within Sirius he hadn't even known existed. It was as though Remus had shone white light through him, blowing away the darkness he had been born with, the cobwebs and anger he had picked up over time. Sirius suddenly felt vulnerable, but also incredibly light. Even when he had been with Benjy, Sirius had never felt like he did right now, and this was a conversation, not even the two of them in the presence of the other.

Most of all, and more surprisingly, Sirius as though he could breathe. Almost as though someone had been stood on his throat for so long, he hadn't even noticed, and now Remus had removed them.

"Hi, Sirius—am I, _um,_ pronouncing it right? Your name, I mean."

The foot lifted even further, and even if he wanted too, Sirius couldn't stop the smile passed over his lips as Sirius' pulse slowed. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Perfect. You're saying it perfectly."

A comfortable, warm silence fell between them, and Sirius leaned back against the bed, a smile on his face he couldn't—and wouldn't—fight if he tried.

Remus cleared his throat. "You sound different, like more than I thought—you don't sound like what I thought, I mean. God, I'm shit at this."

Rolling onto his side, the bed squeaking underneath him, Sirius pinched his bottom lip between his teeth. He had _heard_ that before, no one expected the very London accent—the strict, proper tone that latched onto his words, even after being around Benjy and away from his family. No one expected the man with long black hair and a wardrobe filled with ripped jeans and band t-shirts to sound like they were from Oxford.

"You're cute when you swear."

Impersonating Sirius' voice, Remus laughed before adding, "I'll be cuter if you continue."

It was humorous in a way, but Sirius found he wasn't laughing as hard as usual—not this time. Not when he wanted Remus to like him, his voice included.

Tracing a finger in a circle on his pillow. "I get that a lot, _unsurprisingly_. People also expect me to stick my pinky finger out when I drink tea."

"Do you drink tea, Sirius?"

Smirking, he rolled his lips. "No, Remus. I don't drink _bloody_ tea, I drink Red Bull and nothing else."

Remus laughed, and it sounded better than any other noise Sirius had ever heard. He half wanted to record it, play it back, have a slice of heaven in his phone.

"I drink breakfast tea," Sirius confessed.

He laughed again, and Sirius wished to make him laugh more than anything else.

"I… _don't_ know what to say," Remus said softer, a ruffling sound occurring after.

Sirius licked his lips. "What you doing? I mean, what are you up to currently?"

Remus sighed, soft and cute, and Sirius wished he could see him. He imagined his nose twitching, his eyebrow quirking and a dash of rose over his cheeks. Sirius couldn't push it, even if he wanted to, he could hear him, a step closer to Remus already.

"Other than talking to you?"

_God_ , Sirius liked how quick and snarky Remus was, suddenly clarifying some of his earlier comments now he could hear his tone.

"I'm just sat in my room, being silent, _pretending_ I don't exist."

He couldn't help it, Sirius laughed. It was more unrestrained, loud, and almost with a snort that took him by surprise. Sirius _wasn't_ even embarrassed, not that much anyway. Not enough to reign it in.

"You, Remus, _are_ hilarious."

"You're making me blush, Sirius."

Sirius smirked. "I could do a lot more, just so you know."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

He had expected some quip back, but Sirius was taken back by how _quick_ Remus was.

* * *

Remus had been hesitant to hear Sirius' voice, knowing the moment he did, it would all become very real. His feelings, their conversations and whatever their relationship _could_ be. It was a step closer to being something over nothing, and it terrified him. Something more than Remus felt he could cope with.

If Sirius remained at a distance, not knowing what Remus looked or sounded like, it gave him options—it allowed him to convince himself that none of this was real. Even if it was. Even if it felt so real sometimes it gave him palpitations.

The worst thing about it all, Remus was crushing hard on him.

Something Remus never did. He didn't crush on celebrities or people he hadn't met and had a conversation with. But, he did like Sirius, more than he should for someone he hadn't met, and yet he felt like he had. The sound of his voice, combined with the pictures he had, it painted a picture he never wanted to unsee. It only became more intense when he heard Sirius' laugh, listened to the soft sighs and the way he said his name.

"Somehow, that _doesn't_ surprise me."

Sirius chuckled. "I'll go easy on you this time, _Remus_."

"I like how you say my name… which, is probably super _fucking_ weird to say."

"Not as fucking weird as wanting you to say it, I guess," Sirius replied, and Remus suddenly felt himself relax.

He hadn't meant to swear, and he knew his mother would be turning in her grave. She had raised him to be polite—which he was, most of the time—but since her passing, Remus had found his language had altered a little, frustrations steadily mounting from being ill or in pain. Fuck had become his favourite word; shitbag had become his father's.

"Out of interest, and so I know if this conversation can continue," Remus said, trying to make himself comfortable, "what is your favourite swear word?"

Sirius laughed, lighter than before. "I'm fond of the C word, obviously—but I do save it for special occasions."

"Ah, _Touché_."

"But I think my absolute favourite is _fuck_."

Remus smiled, drawing a circle on his lap. "You passed."

"I did?"

Letting a low laugh escape, Remus relaxed in his jumper, his muscles sighing in relief. "Yeah, we can continue talking."

"Well thank _fuck_ for that."

* * *

Sirius didn't want to hang up. Although he knew at some point, he would have too. He wasn't sure how many conversations you needed to have before taking someone to the bathroom with you—and he wasn't about to ask on the first.

He could hold himself for a little longer at least, not ready to relinquish the chance to hear Remus say words, like his name and the things in his room. It sounded bizarre, Sirius was aware, but there was something different when he listened to Remus. He could listen to him talk about bloody moon phases, and he would still be interested.

Having previously only been able to hold on to small parts of him, the occasional photo or tidbit of information, Sirius now had his voice. This large unanswered question suddenly clearing before him, the box ticking as the image of Remus clarified—Sirius beginning to see who the man was. He focused on the pitch, the sarcastic tone he had imagined when he had read some of his texts.

"Would you rather be wanted for murder and be on the run, or be a homeless man who can't get a job?"

Remus whistled. "Straight in with the _serious_ questions, aren't we?"

Sirius laughed. "Nice pun."

"Think I'd rather be homeless—maybe it's for a reason, maybe I'm infected with something that makes other people weary."

Sirius waited, not sure if Remus had finished, not wanting things to go wrong because he interrupted. Something lily told him he constantly did.

"Maybe," Remus said suddenly, his voice a little more excited than Sirius had been expecting. "I'm infected with a disease, you know, rather than making wrong life choices and be out in my luck."

"I think you thought about it too much."

Remus sniggered, his breath brushing down Sirius' ear, imagining what it would feel like on his neck. Which was odd, to imagine what someone's breath would be like when he had no idea how tall the man was—if the man would want to be curled up on his chest, or if he liked to kiss, to touch.

"I think this _game_ requires you to think too much," Remus replied. "I'm pretty sure it's why you've started it."

Sirius smirked. "Busted. By the way, I'd be a murderer."

"Ominous."

Laughing again, Sirius smiled, turning on to his back as he let his hair fall out from the bun. "No, I just mean… I wouldn't do well homeless—I'm like a dog, not a wild one, one that's used to being petted and a roof over its head. But, if I were a murderer, I'd have done it for the right reasons, so being on the run is me being awarded for the crime."

"Go on," Remus said, his voice full of intrigue, and Sirius wished he could see what his expression was. "Colour me intrigued."

"I'd colour you however you like."

He didn't need to see Remus' face then, he could hear the heat radiating off his cheeks.

* * *

Remus cleared his throat, rubbing his sock covered feet against the carpet as a distraction. He had gone from sitting to standing, lying down to pacing in a matter of minutes, not because he felt awkward, but rather too happy to remain doing one thing.

He still couldn't understand it, how someone who looked like Sirius could be so interested in _him._ A boring man from a boring place, with an even _boring-er_ life.

"Maybe I'd let you."

Remus was just as taken back by his own answer as Sirius must have been, his fingers knotting in his sleeve as he bit his bottom lip.

There was something about him; it put him at ease. He felt himself just talking to Sirius than he did in any other aspect of his life. He felt calm, when he should feel stressed from being on the phone; Remus should be in a permanent state of _constant vigilance—_ just like his orthopaedic consultant told him to be.

He didn't know if _now_ was the time, the place to reel off his many health complaints. How he had crumbling bones, seasonal asthma, and hypogammaglobulinemia. If he did though, he'd have to explain what it was, how it made him weak, susceptible to diseases, ones that often left him in bed and unwilling to speak.

"Anyway," Sirius said, his cool voice like music to Remus' ears, "I'd for sure murder for those I love—friends, select family members… maybe you, if you're lucky."

Remus smiled, not hating how it looked when he met the mirror. "Please please _please_ let me be someone who is lucky."

"I know you're mocking me, but I know you want to be really."

Rolling his eyes, Remus sat more comfortably on the bed. "So, what scenarios would you murder someone?"

"Betrayal leading to death, that's the first one that came to mind."

Remus snorted. "Straight for the betrayal murder, I'd hate to see what you come up when you _think_ about it."

Sirius laughed, a sweeter sound than he expected from the pictures. Manly, but soft at the edges. "Your sarcasm is easier to read now I know what your voice sounds like."

"I'm glad me getting over my fear is beneficial."

"Nah, you see I'm back to not knowing again."

Remus sighed softly, a grin on his face. "I'm being serious, _Sirius."_

"You need a new word, I know my name is sweet and all that—"

"God you're annoying."

Sirius clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I think you'll keep me around though."

"More and more like a dog the more we talk, Sirius."

* * *

Sirius had heard Remus yawn a few times before Sirius knew he needed to relent and let him go.

It was hard, especially when the last hour had gone so quickly—knowing it would be just as easy to pass another. Time flew with Remus, more than he expected. He found his cheeks hurting from smiling, the most since he had lived with James and things had been less complicated.

He had never smiled that much with Benjy, not because he didn't make him happy; he just didn't make him laugh. Something he hadn't been aware of until now.

"You want me to go?"

Yawning, Remus tried to mutter the word no a few times before he finally finished his yawn. "No, it's okay. You can ask me more odd questions, like if I was a fruit, what would I be?"

"What kinda _fruit_ would you be?"

The phone went silent, and Sirius half-expected to hear a snore, but was pleased when he heard Remus click his tongue against his teeth.

"Think a pineapple. I'm kind of prickly sometimes, look a bit more complicated than I am, but I'm sweet and kinda soft inside."

Sirius smirked. "Do you have to be so deep?"

Remus chuckled lightly, followed by another yawn. "If I wasn't tired, I'd respond with something else, but I'm just going to say yes, yes I do."

Sirius felt his cheeks warm, but he didn't push, hearing another soft yawn. "Look, Remus, I'm going to go—"

"No!" Remus said a little more forceful, and Sirius raised his arm behind his head. "I mean, if you want?"

Licking his lips, Sirius grinned to himself. "I don't want to, no. But, I kinda wanna wait for our second conversation to hear you snore."

Remus chuckled lightly, still edged with a yawn at the edge. "You… fancy doing _this_ again?"

"Of course, Remus!"

Sirius tried to hide his glee by biting down on his bottom lip, hearing a rustling, picturing Remus getting comfortable on his bed.

"Good," Remus sighed, followed quickly by a yawn.

While he hadn't wanted to say bye, Sirius didn't want to prolong the inevitable. "Text me in the morning when you've woken up?"

"Sure."

"Night, Remus."

Remus yawned again, a weary 'bye, Sirius' following.

The sound of the end of the call echoed down his ear, Sirius half-expecting both of them to argue like people did in the movies. He wasn't disappointed that they hadn't, he was just disappointed it was over at all.

Sirius held his phone out, staring at the background of his phone—the one Remus had sent.

He contemplated sending something, anything.

His fingers typing before he talked himself out of it.

* * *

**S: I really like your voice.**

_R: Yours isn't too bad yourself._

**S: Do you think you'd want to do that again?**

**S: The phone call, I mean.**

_R: I think I might._

**S: Good.**

**S: Glad I didn't scare you off.**

_R: Don't think you could scare anyone off, Sirius._

**S: Wait till you hear all about my family, I'll even buy you running trainers for the occasion.**

_R: I'd rather die than run, so, think you're safe._

_R: Goodnight, Sirius._

**S: Night. I hope you sleep well, Moony.**

_R: I'm sure I will._

**S: Hope you dream of me ;)**

_R: Already am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find Me On Tumblr: [josiegrae](https://josiegrae.tumblr.com) and on Instagram josiemoone

**Author's Note:**

> Find Me On Tumblr: [josiegrae](https://josiegrae.tumblr.com)


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